Losing Petals
by deenzjeans
Summary: Anastasia Steele lived in a small town in Washington with her high school sweetheart Adam. Married six years, they enjoyed a simple life in the country. A chance meeting with Christian Grey, one of the wealthiest men in the world; however, redirects her course on a devastating path. Caught between two worlds, the petals fall never to return to full bloom.
1. Prologue

_This story has been on my mind for a while...really its the characters that I framed this story around. I want to thank Gobears for her amazing editing skills and for creating the summary for me. She has absolutely captured everything I want this story to encompass. Enjoy. I will be posting the next chapter either tomorrow or Sunday. Search Deenz Fanfiction on Facebook to find my profile. Here it is..._

Prologue: Losing Petals

Several voices failed to get his attention. He gave the flicker of a candle flame more notice than the guests at his table. This wedding shit pissed him off. He despised weddings, never understood them. One person for the rest of your life…And he had yet to meet anyone that fulfilled any vision of a wife for him. Well, he had yet to meet anyone he enjoyed their company. His mother was tolerable, his siblings less, and he hated his father. And always, there existed people who felt entitled to his time like the people surrounding him now. Like being a billionaire wasn't time consuming enough, he had to manipulate a wedding already contracted to divorce in five years. If the bride wasn't a goddamn Australian beauty, he might feel bad for his cousin he paid to marry her. She was the daughter of the Australian Prime Minister and hopefully the key to granting his company the ability to drill down there.

He felt a strange feeling, like he was being watched. Of course he was being watched. Everyone watched him. They waited like an army of ants for any order, any look from him deciding their fates. His father maintained the same presence…one of being feared because of the sheer power one yields. This feeling though was stronger, and he finally moved his gaze from the candle not for anyone from his table but for the woman that sat at the table opposite of his. Chestnut strands framed blue doe eyes and in a normal situation he expected her to drop her gaze, be embarrassed that he just caught her staring, but she just smiled. Her eyes crinkling at the corners, and she bared all of her teeth. There was unnerving warmth that radiated from her smile. She looked so damn happy and usually he found the emotion nauseating, but with her she made it seem effortless. He sat straighter as he realized she wore no makeup, and she also felt no insecurity about it. She was young, he guessed early twenties but she had this innate wisdom, a grace that he had never seen before. It was her eyes, they seemed much older than her appearance but so warm, kind, and inviting.

She was interrupted by the blonde teenager sitting next to her as he held out his hand to dance. The inadequate looking male held her close as he led her out to the dance floor. Their intimacy sickened him. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and they danced as if they were the only couple on the dance floor. Like they would last, they both were still so young.

"Christian." His nerves grated as his father occupied the chair next to him.

"Dad." The smell of scotch was strong, enough to permeate the entire tablecloth.

"Creative fix, son."

"I was taught well." It was as close to a compliment that his father could muster.

"How about you get a wife now too? You're 32 Christian and a wife is an asset." He'd feel bad that his father used his mother for many business transactions if she didn't enjoy it. His family was so fucked that the mere labeling of a wife as an asset didn't faze him.

"I've done quite well without a wife, better than you even." Carrick Grey didn't react often or allow his anger to show but that clenched fist made Christian smirk in triumphant glee.

"Who will you leave your empire to?" Oh fuck, kids. The idea made his skin itch, and his head hurt, fierce. Children were also an asset, he couldn't remember how many times his father forced him to seduce the wives of men that had acted too confident with his father. The son of a bitch was ruthless like that, not that he complained. Those pent-up housewives had fantasies upon fantasies to relieve.

"What? It's all on your brother to produce a family heir, someone to continue the Grey name? We all know how responsible he is." His brother Elliot was either passed out already or banging the bride in the boathouse. To be honest, being the middle child, no one expected any different.

"He's probably producing one right now for you, and if you look hard enough I'm sure he has a blonde hair blue-eyed kid running around somewhere." His father clenched his glass of scotch tighter before wearing a smile and waving to a guest across the way. He was about to leave when he watched the young woman he caught staring at him earlier leaving the tent. Standing without acknowledging his exit, he followed her out. Why would she be going towards the backyard? He found her date, socializing eagerly with some of the other guests, not even caring for where she might be going. He watched her stop in the grass, remove her shoes, and then continue with a beer in hand and her shoes in the other. She damn near pranced towards his mother's rose garden, looking like a dancing sun, and his feet moved before he could convince himself otherwise.

She stood at one of the rose bushes, and her fingers glided over the petals as she moved down the row. The rose bushes formed a square with a large hedge frame where you entered to be surrounded by the most beautiful flowers in Seattle. His mother hired gardeners to tend to them now, but he could remember the days she spent camped out here. It was the only thing his father allowed her complete control over.

"Maybe I should be upset that you're staring at me strangely, but I did stare first." Her voice was stronger than he imagined but still soft and caring. She turned and smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare." He finally moved into the garden and outside of the framing hedge. He wasn't quite dressed for it, but he could definitely fuck her in the grass and then he remembered the concrete bench. Perfect.

"Do you always smile like that?" Instinctively, she smiled and he reciprocated. She was infectious with her happiness, he hoped it was temporary. He quite enjoyed being unhappy and wallowing in his wealth.

"My husband says I have no in-between smile. Go big or go home I guess."

"You're married? That was your husband?"

"Yes. We've been married for almost six years."

"How old are you?"

"24"

"You got married at 18?" Who the fuck gets married at 18 anymore? They have a kid. It's the only explanation.

"Yep." There was a very minute smile she reserved for her husband when she spoke of him. One that none of the housewives he had ever seduced wore. She might be a challenge.

"Jesus Christ." He breathed and she laughed, it was melodic.

"He had something to do with it." Great, the challenge just astronomically skyrocketed in difficulty.

"May I ask what you were thinking about back at the table?" She asked as he moved closer towards her, but she continued to look at the rose bushes as if she knew that he might talk easier if she weren't watching him.

"How much I hate weddings." She laughed again, and he swore several fireflies lit up in response.

"You're not that cold. I can see it." Somehow he believed her. He'd never believe it from anyone else, but she looked at him with eyes clear of deceit.

"Forgive me for being so rude and not properly introducing myself. I am Anastasia Steele."

"Christian Grey. May I ask what you're doing out here?"

"I noticed the garden when we first arrived. I have one of my own but not anything like this. It's beautiful…absolutely beautiful." He felt a strange pride for his mother.

"It's my mothers."

"Well, she's a genius. These roses are simply gorgeous. Roses are my favorite. Their petals are layered but serve a purpose and curved with feminine beauty. They symbolize life to me."

"How so?"

"I think we are all on a journey of being enlightened and awakened, each experience provides us a petal until we look like this…" She cupped the rose with her delicate hands as if it was more fragile than her but it wasn't possible. "Full bloom."

"I'm a few petals short." He replied.

_Where the hell did that come from? _

She forced something from him, forced him to feel something. Relaxed? That was even more ridiculous, but the more he watched her, the more her warmth radiated from him. She turned around and smiled like she were the sun that fed the garden...that fed him and nourished his soul. He was losing it. All rationale was gone; all leaving nothing but a hunger for her, her spirit.

"Don't worry me too. Sometimes I even think I lose some." Finally he saw how far back from the tent they had ventured. "You are too trusting Ana. You shouldn't be back here this far with a stranger." She pursed her lips and cocked her head in a manner that challenged his new found protectiveness. There was this very out of control maddening feeling that ravaged him the more time he spent with her.

"I know your name." She quipped back. "My grandmother had this story she would share with me all the time." Slowly she sat in the grass and curled her legs under her. Against the backdrop of the rose bush, she looked like a sunflower...full bloom, beautiful. He sat on the concrete bench, the feet bound with vines, and he listened in anticipation of watching her soft full lips whisper a story.

"She said that when I was five and we were outside playing in her garden that a bee had stung me, and I cried. She kept telling me that it was a honeybee and that it died after it stung me. She was trying desperately to make me feel better, but I just cried even harder."

"Because the bee died?" He asked completely engrossed in her tale.

"Yeah." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Because the bee died. After I cried, she said I calmly explained that bees did good. They helped the flowers and that helped people because flowers made people happy. She said that was the day she realized I would see the good in everything and everyone."

_Even him? _

"You don't see the bad?"

"I always seem to be blinded by the good." He had never felt so comfortable talking to someone before. Never. Not his mother, not siblings and definitely not his father...if only he could decipher the difference, decipher her. What made her so comforting? She was organically beautiful, mind and soul. Truly, she was like the earth beneath your feet and the sun that warmed the heart...she felt like a universal home.

"I should get back to my husband. It was nice to meet you." She stood and brushed the back of her dress before walking towards the hedge archway when she turned.

"Hey, will you promise me something?" Her face hiding nothing, not with make up or fake expressions. She stood genuinely curious before him.

"Depends on what it is."

"If you happen to feel like you're losing petals, only allow a couple."

"Just a couple of petals." She nodded, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Deal." He memorized her last smile before she turned and walked away. It wouldn't be for long. His father had spoken words he had lived and succeeded by.

"_You are a Grey Christian. You don't lose and you always get what you want. I don't care who you have to kill or manipulate to get it." _

He'll have her.


	2. Chapter 1

_Thank you everyone for your reviews! They have simply been amazing and I am so happy that everyone loved it! This is an introductory chapter for Ana and her husband. The next chapter will contain Ana and Christian's reunion. Enjoy! _

Chapter 1

I am a simple woman unknown to those outside of Montesano city limits. I thrive with less. Born and raised in a small town, I am content to grow old here and raise a family here if a miracle happened upon my husband Adam and I. My grandmother always said God created me with his eyes closed, I was that easy. My personality, a true Christian, she'd explain was never so innate than what it was in me. Her golden brown eyes always flickered with such love when she spoke. After my parents passed away when I was six, she became my mother, best friend, and source of safety. Everyone in town knew her, loved her, and called her Mawmaw. Her words were always spoken with such conviction and she never lied to me. She always said lies were a waste of speech and breath. There existed such a quiet confidence in my grandmother's mannerisms and speech; her peppered gray hair always worn in either a braid or a bun because she couldn't work outside any other way. She taught me to garden flowers, fruits, and vegetables, and she also graced me with her famous secret apple pie recipe. It was county fair award winning, she'd tell me as her eyes drew up and stared with a feigned glare, and I would roll my eyes at her.

"I won't tell a soul Mawmaw" I'd finally say, and she would return to kneading the dough.

I was a freshman in high school and Adam was a junior when he came to mow our yard one day. Our mower had broken, and he offered since he lived two houses down. My best friend Angela came specifically because I called excitedly to tell her that Adam Steele was mowing our lawn with his shirt off. My poor bedroom window continually stained with our hot breaths as we watched him. I remember he looked up, and I hit my head on the window sill as I dropped down to the floor. He still teases me about it. He had these big blue eyes that if he looked at you long enough, you'd just melt where you stood. His hair was just long enough for the ends to curl, and in the summer it turned a bright blonde that only brightened with each passing sun. He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. After he finished our lawn that day, my grandmother asked him to come to dinner that evening. I almost threw up with how nervous I was. My hands shook as I moved my hangers of clothes in frustration. Finally, I settled on a white sundress that hung to my knees, Mawmaw would never allow anything shorter. I brushed through my hair and slid a white flower pin to pull back two braided strands. Make-up wasn't allowed yet, and still to this day I don't wear much besides mascara and lip gloss, if that. When he showed up in khaki's and a blue pin-striped American Eagle button-up, I can't remember if I drooled or not. It was highly likely, I did. Dinner was a blur of a pacing heart and sweaty hands. I listened though, how respectful he was and how intelligent he spoke. After dinner, he helped me with the dishes, he washed and I dried. Every detail of that night I imprinted, every sound and every scent including his of old spice soap which he still uses.

"I wanted to tell you I saw you sing in church the other day. You sounded really beautiful." My cheeks blushed a rosy hue, and I think I dried the same plate for ten minutes. I didn't know what to say and everything that ran through my mind seemed inadequate. Sheepishly, I offered to walk him home but when I got to his house he realized he didn't want me to walk home alone. None of it was graceful, but it was imperfectly….perfect.

"Hey, you." Adam handed me a cup of green tea as he joined me on our swing. We are moving to Seattle tomorrow, and there was no other place I'd prefer to be than on our swing with the woods behind our house in view. The woods grounded me. The soil, the cycle of renewal every year when the leaves returned, and it just felt like…home. We just returned from our going away party. The thought of leaving the people I grew up with produced an anxiety I've never felt before. Most couldn't believe that Adam had convinced me to move. Three weeks after the wedding in Seattle, he received a job offer from Grey Enterprise Holdings that he labeled once in a lifetime. The salary was three times the value of our home, and the benefits package left nothing to be desired. An apartment and company vehicles would be provided. GEH offered him a Human Resources Management position and stated that little travel would be required. They expected him to be traveling once a month.

Adam loved the city. Of course, he loved our town also but after a visit to New York his senior year of high school, I remember he returned different. He kept telling me he couldn't wait to show me the world that I had no idea what else was out there. I'd smile and then he'd return with a grin knowing I was content where I was. I'll stay wherever you are, he'd always say because he could read me so well. He did attend Washington State University for two years while I finished high school. He'd visit every weekend, attend church with my grandmother and I. We broke up for six months because I wanted him to explore college without me. I knew not everyone was like me, especially Adam. He had a hunger, a thirst for the world that I just didn't attain. I thought I'd leave it in God's hands and wait for Adam to return, if that were his plan. And still every weekend, I'd find him in our yard, mowing the lawn. Sometimes, the amount of love I felt for him scared me, but my grandmother reassured me that I was just lucky enough to find love early. When she fell ill, Adam returned and proposed. We were married within three months making sure she could attend, and she passed away from cancer three months later. I thank God every day for Adam and the comfort he brought me during that time.

"How are you doing?" He asked as we settled into our usual position on the swing, with me in between his legs and resting my head on his chest. His fingers found mine, and he grazed my knuckles with his lips as he always did every time our hands met.

"The stars won't be this bright in the city will they?"

"No, but the city lights are just as beautiful just in a different way." He replied with gentle strokes of his fingers on my arms.

"I'm scared." Terrified actually but at some point I realized all he had sacrificed for me by staying in Montesano and he did it without complaints. There were few moments I felt his discontent. He would always reassure me that home was wherever I was, but there were days I watched him look for jobs in New York or Chicago. He explained that the idea was so far-fetched; it was a fantasy and nothing he would ever pursue. I believed him but his excitement when he received the job offer just melted my heart. I guess what I'm afraid of is when does a sacrifice become regret? Does it depend on the reason for said sacrifice? Or does it depend on the length of time one sacrifices? Or is it simply the act of sacrificing in general? These thoughts had plagued me recently and I prayed every day that clarity would find me.

"We'll be fine. We've made it through worse, and this way we'll be able to see a fertility specialist and hopefully have a baby soon." There it was the largest motivator for the move. We had looked into several fertility specialists in our area, and truly the cost to use them was more than we could afford. I worked in a florist shop, and Adam worked at the radio station in their HR department. We weren't able to conceive because Adam was sterile. It was three years into our marriage when we received the news. For three months, he felt like he failed me, and I reminded him every day that my love for him didn't rest on having a family. I loved him because he spoke to my soul, and with him I felt insanely safe. It still bothered him, but it was the first thing he said when he received the job offer, that we would be able to pursue the idea of having a family.

"You're right." I melted deeper into his embrace, and I closed my eyes.

"I promise to give you everything you've ever wanted. You can work on your photography and we'll have a baby." I could feel how desperate he was for me to be excited about the move but he also understood my reservations.

"You know you've always been enough right?" I asked hating that he felt like I needed more than what we currently had.

"Yes baby I know, but I can give you more now."

"Okay." It was no use arguing with him. He always had this dream that he'd spoil me, but he loved that I never held the desire to be spoiled.

"We should head in."

"Just a little bit longer." I pleaded relishing the familiar smell of pine and freshly cut grass. He nuzzled his chin into my hair and held me tighter.

"Okay." He breathed, and I listened to the crickets sing their songs and the fireflies dance to the rhythmic chirps. I'll miss this.

"Adam, have you seen these buildings? I've never seen anything like it." Seattle, a city I had never visited, grew with each passing street. The sheer size and number of buildings larger than any feed tower overwhelmed me. My eyes drew wide and I curled my legs up onto the leather seat of Adam's truck. Honestly, my heart beat so fast just from the pace of the city. The sounds of car horns and the chatter of the people walking the streets almost gave me sensory overload. It sure did show me how sheltered I was in Montesano.

"I just can't believe how many people live in one place." Echoing my astonishment, I watched the scenery around me unfurl into a normal chaos. We were on our way to the Escala building where GEH provided us our new home. Adam had spent our entire road trip preparing me for the apartment telling me that it had a much different feel than our home. I could tell he was nervous for me to adjust so I kept reminding him that I would do my best. I didn't want to lie and tell him that I'd immediately love it, but even he knew the lack of a yard discounted a lot of its appeal.

"Isn't it amazing?" Adam asked, and I turned to see his eyes glittered with excitement.

I returned from those memories and watched him navigate the city traffic with ease. He looked as though he belonged here. I started to study my husband. His sleeves were rolled to just beneath his elbow; his beautiful forearms a nice tanned glow from mowing our lawn yesterday. His blonde hair fell from its styling to frame his face, and his jaw was pulled tight as he dodged in between traffic.

"I can feel you staring at me." I couldn't help but grin, and I lay my head against the back of the seat. His hand searched for mine again, and I threaded my fingers through his. Again, he kissed my knuckles and his blue eyes smiled at mine. It was the look I received when he was thinking naughty thoughts.

"I was admiring God's masterpiece."

"Talk about a masterpiece." I followed his gaze and we both stared at the Escala building, its elegant curve such a nice change to the manufactured element of its steel and glass frame. The curve softened the overwhelming masculinity of the building and the power it exuded. Several balconies were visible from the view we had as we entered a parking garage. Adam had visited twice since he accepted the offer and each time he returned, he paraded around the house on cloud nine with excitement that was infectious.

"I can't believe we live here." The cars we passed in the garage were all luxury vehicles, vehicles I couldn't even comprehend the cost of. Adam drove a used truck while I drove the same Jeep Cherokee I drove in high school. I had to sell my poor baby before we left since GEH provided us with vehicles too. We pulled into the parking spot, and I watched him turn the key off. For some reason, my heart was racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

"Are you ready?" He turned towards me, and I nodded before taking a deep breath. We both climbed out, and he grabbed my hand, lips to fingers as always. The elevator moved so much faster than those I had been in, but my experience was limited. Finally we reached floor 29 and the doors opened to a small lobby.

"Take a deep breath." I smiled amused but obeyed. It couldn't be that different. He slid the key in and unlocked the door. A small hallway with a powder room immediately on the left led into an open space just visually over stimulating. The apartment came fully furnished, and the furnishings were of quality and patterns I didn't even know existed.

"Oh. My. Gosh. Adam."

"I know, right." He turned around and beamed so proud of our new home. I had never seen anything like it. A warm off-white color painted the hallway but changed to a gray when we entered the living room. To my right, I saw the kitchen. Brown cabinets with odd striations were positioned against the back wall, and some lacked cabinet handles. A large island stood opposite the cabinets with a sink, and two rectangular bar stools sat beneath the lip of the countertop. But seriously, I couldn't stop wondering how you opened some of those cabinets. Who would ever design them such a way?

"Come, look at this!" Adam's voice was higher pitched than usual as he opened the balcony door. I touched the glass of the fireplace as I crossed the dining room to the where he stood. A cooler breeze than what I felt earlier touched my face, and I was hit with several sounds. Car horns, a woman yelling, and just the chaotic sounds of city happenings all surrounded me. The railing was cool beneath my hands, and I took in our view as best as I could before it all began to overwhelm me. The lights and the lack of privacy, maybe one day I'd get used to it, but it seemed all too much with everything else.

"Isn't this amazing?" Adam whispered into my ear, the excitement so tonally evident that I had to smile.

"It is amazing." Truly it was, it was a view to behold just much different than what I was used to. We walked back inside, and Adam showed me the rest of the apartment. Our master bedroom had an ornate four poster bed with gold tones and with coordinating dark brown end tables. I was so happy for the warm colors. The master bathroom was larger than our old bedroom. The bath and shower were also separate. It all felt like a hotel, not at all like our home, but I hoped with time it would. What I assumed was our doorbell rang, and I opened to be greeted with a bouquet larger than any I had put together of gerbera daisies, hydrangeas, and roses in palettes of bold bright colors of yellows, oranges, greens, ruby red, and pinks. I paused for a moment because the sweet smell of petals invaded the foyer and reminded me of walking in our backyard and of home. I signed the smartphone the delivery man held out to me and closed the door. I searched for a vase to put them in if there were any.

"Babe, how the heck do these work?" Adam, obviously amused, came and stood next to me. I watched him press the corner of the cabinet and it opened, all by itself.

"Well, that's one way to open a cabinet."

"You'll get used to it." Adam laughed at me, and he grabbed a vase from below the sink and filled it with water. I positioned the flowers and mixed in the solution when I noticed the note, and I pulled it out.

Adam and Ana,

Welcome to the building. See you both tomorrow.

-Christian

"I didn't know Christian lived here." Of course he'd send me petals, and I couldn't help but smile at the personal touch of that night. I could never forget Christian Grey. Although I was drawn to the wonder of people, I can always find virtue, but he was somehow different. He had an intoxicating presence, one that you just wanted to study, to drink like fine wine. My camera would devour him, his chiseled face, and the power he exuded but most of all the nuanced emptiness within his eyes.

"Oh yeah, he lives a couple floors up. I'm going to order some food." I placed the flowers on the table and sat in one of the chairs. Studying my surroundings again, the floor-to-ceiling windows kept drawing my attention. It felt so exposed, and even with curtains, it still made me uncomfortable. We lived on two acres, and our neighbors weren't visible through our tree lines. The complete privacy compared to the open feeling of the windows and the layout of the apartment seemed almost like too much space, too much freedom.

After some Chinese takeout, Adam ran me a bath. I think he sensed how overwhelmed I felt. I stripped in the bedroom and met him in the bathroom. He was never one I felt insecure around especially not with my body. I wouldn't have married him otherwise. On our wedding night, he was so gentle, tender, and reassuring when I gave him my virginity, and he made love to me for the first time. It felt like heaven, and from that day forward, I would always be his.

The bath smelled of lavender, and I could see bubbles rising slowly with the sound of the faucet. Adam sat on the edge in just his jeans, his bare chest and feet a welcome sight. He stripped his jeans and climbed into the bathtub. Our last bathtub could fit two if we both curled at opposite ends, and it wasn't romantic to endure a bath instead of enjoying one. I climbed in and settled between his legs, my head resting back against his chest. Maybe, this would be our porch swing every night. I could definitely get used to it.

"Thank you." My voice a whisper as his hands moved across my skin with a washcloth.

"I know my wife." His voice was low, the tone hinting that we would be in bed soon and he'd be covering my body with his. I had pulled my hair into a messy bun on top of my head giving him full access to my neck which he placed soft kisses to.

"Do you want your hair washed?" His voice dropped lower and I knew it were more a question of time than anything to do with my hair.

"No, I'll shower in the morning."

"Okay. Let's go to bed then." Smiling, I climbed out of the tub and dried off. I knew not to dress as I made way to the bed and moved the pillows to the floor as he pulled back the covers. The sheets were freezing as I slid in and he quickly pulled me to his chest.

"You know how much I love you for this…for trying?" He searched my eyes, and I offered no indication that I doubted him.

"Of course. I know you love me regardless of where we are."

"You'll love it here, I promise. Just give it time." I kissed him softly, and he pressed his chest to mine before rolling me onto my back. His lips moved to my neck, and he made love to me. I was grateful for the distraction. The idea of loving something so different from everything I've known…well it seemed impossible. Could you love two places at once?


	3. Chapter 2

_Thank you again for all the reviews! The response to this story has been amazing and humbling. Thank you all for taking the time to read and even review! Enjoy Chapter 2! Again, I need to thank Gobears for being an amazing beta, and editing the chapters for me! _

Chapter 2

I woke up renewed as Adam lay snoring next to me. He looked peaceful sleeping in his usual position on his side of the bed with his arms wrapped around his pillow, and his cheek caressing the sheet. Today, I would recognize my blessings and adjust my attitude to this move. Putting it all in perspective, we were fortunate, and Adam deserved to feel as though we made the right decision. I showered and threw on some jeans and a white t-shirt hoping to make some coffee. Maybe, I should try the balcony again. It was 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday so I was fairly certain the noise would have diminished some. I blew my hair away from my face as I studied the coffeemaker. I had never seen one like it.

"Keurig..." I murmured as I ran my fingers over the buttons. There were several creamer cups stacked next to it wearing the same brand name. It didn't seem important enough to wake Adam yet, and it was only a coffee maker. I could figure this out. Pulling the top open, I frowned. I tried to remember if I had seen filters that small at the grocery store. Already working my way through the cabinets in search of coffee, it just didn't make sense. Finally I felt Adam's arms snake around me and press tender kisses to my neck. They were always tender. It almost felt like we were in our old kitchen besides the lack of coffee brewing.

"Babe, I need a modern living guide." He laughed and then laughed harder when he realized how serious I was. I mean it's not like I lived an Amish life, but there certainly existed a gap I doubted I would bridge anytime soon.

"Is it the cabinets again?" He replied jokingly, his arms crossed and he leaned against the kitchen island.

"No, it's this coffee maker. It makes no sense. There is no coffee and yet we have these creamers sitting right next to it. Why need creamers if there is no coffee?" His lips were pursed tight, and I could tell he was trying to keep himself from laughing. I shook my head in frustration.

"Babe, it's not funny. I seriously am so confused about this."

"Oh honey..." He kissed my temple and pushed me aside gently. "I love you."

I watched as he filled the water container and then he took one of the creamers and opened the top of the Keurig. Reaching up into the cabinet above, he removed a mug and placed it beneath the spout. It all seemed so darn easy now but never would I have figured it out without him. He explained the buttons and then brewed a cup of coffee. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the most delicious cup of coffee I had tasted.

"See, that easy..."

"Yeah, well now that I know." I laughed, and we walked out onto the balcony. It was a beautiful summer day, the temperature not too warm yet. There were no sounds of birds and if there were, the sounds of the traffic below would have drowned them out. I started to realize how I'd never be able to be outside with just the sounds of nature, at least not here. The mood that had plagued me last week threatened to return, but one look at Adam and it dissipated. He had such affection for the city, one that although I couldn't understand, I blossomed in his content.

"What do you wanna do today?" I asked, and I could already sense his excitement, his desire to show me the beauty of the city. I'd keep my eyes open and clear for him.

"Well, we'll explore the neighborhood and I'll show you where the grocery store is."

_Perfect. _

"Will they have fresh produce?"

"Yep, just not gardened from those beautiful hands. I'm sure your cooking will still suffice."

"Jerk" I nudged him, and worked through the sadness I'd feel of not having a garden anymore. It was definitely work, but there was such a high when you watched the plants sprout and grow. Every morning, I'd wake up early and examine how a day of sun and rain had fed my soil which in turn fed my soul.

"Which speaking of your beautiful hands..." He brought them to his lips and then studied my nails.

"I made an appointment at the spa for you. They'll do your nails; give you a massage, and some other things." I looked puzzled before catching myself, but luckily Adam's attention had moved to the building across from us. I didn't want to disappoint him or seem not thankful, but my nails were never painted. My life in general always made it impossible for nail polish to survive longer than a couple of hours, but I guess the city will probably be a different story.

As we hit the sidewalks, I was engulfed by the fast pace of Seattle. I clung to Adam and struggled to keep up, my attention being shifted every second by a new person, a store, or the movement of traffic. Or lackthereof, I should say. There were so many people differentiated by their dress, some extreme and some not but each person so unique. It gave the city such an eccentric beauty not at all organic like Montesano. He showed me the closest grocery store, and we visited some of the small boutiques before grabbing lunch.

"I want you to try sushi. You'll love it." Scrunching my nose in amusement and apprehension, he pulled me into the restaurant. My inability to handle change was one of my worst faults. Not only do I have minimal coping skills for it, they've never been developed or tested until now. Adam ordered a shrimp something roll, a roll with the name of Godzilla, and an appetizer of what looked like peapods. He looked so pleased sitting across from me, and he was almost giddy every time I tried something new. Don't even get me started on the victorious expression he wore every time I told him it was delicious.

"You're really enjoying being right, huh?" I quipped as he laughed.

"It doesn't happen often so yes. Yes, I do."

I don't know how we got here in an Audi with more buttons and a screen I had no idea how to use yet. He was driving what had been designated as my car I guess, an Audi Q7. Adam just beamed as he explained the vehicle, how safe it was and how to operate the GPS, which I would definitely need. He was nervous, his excitement slowly turning into rambling. I knew how important tonight was for him. We had visited Anthropologie after our sushi adventure which was an eye-opener. The clothing was absolutely beautiful but expensive. $70 for a shirt seemed outrageous, but Adam pushed for me to pick a few things out and I found a dress. It was a bright orange tone on tone dotted dress. It had a v-neck ruffled neckline with a cinched waist and hit slightly above the knee. The freedom of the fabric and the color felt exactly like me. The spa was a treat too. As much as I cringed at the amount of money we were spending in one day, the release of tension from the muscles they massaged distracted me. I was immediately torn away from my recollections from the day as I heard the sound of a phone ringing, completely surrounding me.

"Adam, is our car ringing?" I watched him push a button on the screen, and my ears melted at the sound of his mother's voice, the sound of home. It took a lot of restraint not to cry, that's how homesick I felt but I knew Adam would take it personally so I did what Mawmaw always said to do when I wanted to cry. I imagined myself cooking, making an entire recipe in my head. It distracted me. I had to concentrate on the order, measurements, and ingredients. Tonight it seemed my mind craved Turkey meatballs with Spaghetti squash.

_Spaghetti Squash_

_1 lb of Ground Turkey _

_Basil_

_Parsley_

It allowed me to answer her, although my attention not completely on her, I promised to call tomorrow and tell her all about our first weekend here.

We pulled up outside another large building with the same masculine feel, but the large indented curve of the front of the building added a feminine quality, relaxed the structure of it. Adam handed the keys to a gentleman before helping me out the car. We were greeted at the front desk as they directed us to the glass elevator which was located on the side of the building and provided panoramic views of the city. As we ascended and were whisked to the thirty-third floor, there was excited chatter from the other guests, but the rapid flashing city lights ushered in a sudden feeling of vertigo. I quickly moved to grab Adam's hand. His warm fingers provided momentary relief, but the doors then opened and I felt the sudden change in Adam's stance and demeanor.

We walked into a flurry of people, talking animatedly with mixed drinks in hands. The Columbia Tower Club had stunning décor. A mixture of dark wood and gold accents, it felt very elegant but modern with large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Seattle. Tables were decorated with large candle centerpieces that hung from curled iron rods like leaves on a branch. The women were in well-fitted dresses, and their heels were all over two inches. Wrists were covered in gold or silver, and their ears displaying beautiful collections of earrings. I only wore a necklace with my father's wedding ring and my wedding ring, and both my mother and grandmother's wedding rings bound my fingers. This was a party to welcome all the new top management employees. Adam fit in completely with his gray tailored suit that was delivered to our apartment earlier in the day, and he made quick pace for introductions. I met several members of the board and their spouses. I tried to make new friends, but it didn't seem to be happening as I had hoped. I smiled and attempted to ask personal questions, but most were drowned out by the quick change to topics of business. It was then that I noticed the separation of the employees and their dates. Some women stood to the side silent but engaged or they were off socializing in smaller groups. Adam handed me a glass of red wine, which I replied with a look of confusion. I had tried red wine once and my opinion had yet to change as I took a sip. It had such a strong and bitter taste.

"You look like I should save you from this group." A warm voice echoed from behind me, and I turned to probably the most beautiful older woman I had ever seen. She looked vaguely familiar with gray eyes and lighter brown hair that framed her face in a wavy shoulder-length cut. She didn't wear much make-up compared to the other women at the party, and I immediately connected with her. Wearing a pink boat-neck and capped sleeve dress, she looked stunning. She hooked her arm through mine and pulled me away. I looked back at Adam, but he was busy with one of the other guests.

"You're not from around here are you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"The city makes its mark on people. You have yet to wear it, so either you're new or a very strong young woman." She led me to a table and motioned for me to sit. As we sat, the noise of the crowd seemed to become quieter, and I followed Grace's gaze. Christian had just entered, still tall and domineering as I remember in a suit tailored just as beautifully as his tuxedo had been at the wedding. He seemed indifferent to the event as he made his way around the room for introductions.

"My son makes quite an entrance, doesn't he?" I quickly swiveled to face her.

"You're Christian's mother?"

"You two have met?"

"Yes at the wedding at your home two months ago. Actually, we met in your rose garden which still holds a firm grasp on my heart. It is a gorgeous garden. "She narrowed her eyes at me in curiosity and then did the same as she looked at Christian. A smile emerged when she returned her attention to me.

"Thank you so much. I don't garden it myself anymore but I still remember the dirt beneath my fingernails when I planted the first bush."

"Oh that sounds wonderful." I breathed in relief to meet someone I felt relaxed around.

"I'm Ana by the way. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier."

"Grace." She smiled warmly.

"He seemed proud of your garden too, you know."

"Christian?"

"Mhmm." I nodded and watched him as he approached the bar. She smiled at Christian differently than she had before.

"You, my dear, must be special. My son doesn't usually converse with people in such a way."

"I could tell but we all need a friend."

"Don't pay attention to those two." I followed the motion of her eyes and saw a couple in their forties quickly shift their looks of disapproval. "He assumed that your husband's position was going to be his." I offered a smile but they both turned away.

"It's the way of the corporate world my dear, don't feel bad." I hated having enemies already. We had only just moved here yesterday.

"I think I'm going to get some air. I'm feeling quite warm." Grace smiled as if she knew I felt overwhelmed and nodded before she pointed to the balcony doors.

Once the doors closed, the noise no longer of the crowd but the city, I breathed deep filling my lungs as much as I could. I exhaled with the breeze hoping it would carry every ounce of anxiety and tension my body held. The city felt small beneath me, the view that beautiful, and with the height, one could feel close to God but in that moment I felt more connected to the wind than I did heaven. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself on the porch swing embraced by Adam's arms, but the noises of the city made it impossible for the noises of crickets chirping to sound in my head.

"You look like you could use one of these." I turned at the sound of Christian's voice as he closed the balcony doors and held out a beer. I hugged him appreciating the gesture and as I would any friend but he grew rigid.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting people don't hug here in greetings."

"It's a nice change." He reassured me and then he was at my side as we took in the view. My head reached his shoulders; he was much taller than me. His hair had been combed away from his face although some strands had begun their escape. He was much more relaxed than he had been in the rose garden, his face not so tense. Even with tension, no one could deny his masculine beauty. He had an angular jaw, one that gave chiseled an entire new meaning. His cheekbones were perfectly structured and his nose was prominent in a manner that just solidified his appearance of power. His eyes were what drew me to him. They were penetrable, unyielding of strength, and so clouded. I wanted to help him clear them and I smiled as he looked at me again. He had already worked some of it away.

"You look happier." I commented as I took a sip of beer, it going down so smoothly taking the rest of my anxiety with it.

"I wish I could say the same for you." He replied, and I watched him study me. I wrinkled my nose at him and moved my gaze to the lights of traffic, the blinking glare of turn signals, and the beaming brake lights. For some reason, we had an innate ability to read each other, something that Adam and I were beginning to lose when I remembered shopping today and even the gesture of him handing me wine. It seemed small but much larger when the changes were happening to you.

"It's just one of those days I feel tested."

"You're not happy with the move?"

"I'm adjusting," I replied not really sure how to explain how I was feeling. Lost? Too small in this large city? Even scared of how Adam and I were changing, but I had faith that the world would return to some sense of normalcy. I really needed this, a sense of home in a place drowned in people and motion I couldn't relate to. Without a second thought, I automatically looked at Christian. As our eyes met, I suddenly felt connected to something, to him as if we now shared a wavelength. "I don't want you to believe we're not happy with the opportunity you've given us. He's really pleased to be here." These new feelings of discontent confused me, and I just hoped he wouldn't question it further.

"I'm glad."

"Anyway, how are you doing?" I changed the subject only to watch him shrug his shoulders. When we first met, I sensed an overwhelming sadness in him and even though, he seemed better, his clouded gray eyes told a different story.

"You're looking at me as if you know the answer."

"I was hoping I was wrong. Wanna talk about it?"

"Let's just say you might want to pray for me."

"I do pray for you." Immediately, I mentally smacked myself. What a condescending statement, but I had prayed for him. Since we met in the rose garden, he had been on my mind. Every night and every Sunday at church as I prayed, I thought of him. His sad eyes when he stared at that candle on the dinner table at the wedding always captured like a photograph, appeared in my mind without thought. I just felt this unknown urge to want more for him, for him to be happy.

"Someone needs to. What do you pray for?" A breath of relief escaped my chest, and I kept smiling because it was all I knew to do when I was nervous.

"I pray you find what you're looking for."

"I have found it. It's just there are obstacles." It was odd to see him refer to obstacles. He seemed to be a man that would refuse to admit any struggle, and the fact he did admit this to me strengthened that connection. It made it more tangible, like I wasn't just grasping at anything to ground me in this new place I felt so lost in.

"You're Christian Grey. I'm sure you'll find a way." He looked as though he wanted to say more, but he recoiled into his thoughts, the same distant look that I first studied him in.

"You should have seen my attempt with the coffee maker this morning." He chuckled, and I was happy for the change in subject and our return to a comfortable conversation.

"The Keurig?"

"Yes. I thought those coffee cups were creamers." He looked good as he expelled a belly laugh, and I joined him melting deeper into the comfort of the conversation.

"It's funny because a year ago, my housekeeper was sick and I had to make my own coffee with it. I probably had about as much success with it that you did."

"Are you just telling me that to make me feel better?"

"Did it?"

"Yes." I added and then finally took a relaxed breath.

"Thank you for this." I told him, and he turned looking confused.

"For what?"

"For this…" I motioned between us. "For a conversation that is void of stress and just normal. I really needed this."

"You're welcome."

"Ana…" I turned at Adam's voice, and he stepped out on the balcony.

"Mr. Grey." In that moment, I saw a different Adam than I had known. His hand was extended, and his shoulders stiff. I knew Adam as my relaxed counterpart, the social butterfly who socialized with such ease, but he stood before Christian different.

"Christian, please. How are you finding things, Adam?"

"Very well Sir. Thank you for everything." Christian thrived in the dynamic of being the authority figure. He looked natural in his position, at ease.

"We are glad to have you be a part of the company. If you'll excuse me, I should return to the party." I smiled as Adam moved to my side and Christian made his way in.

"Mr. Grey." I don't know if I'd ever be able to refer to him as Mr. Grey. He just looked like Christian, not at all above me but just a friend. "We would love to have you over for dinner sometime to thank you for everything. My wife is a wonderful cook."

"I'm sure she is. I'll look at my schedule and find a night that works. Thank you for the offer."

As Christian walked away, I turned to Adam and threaded my arms around his waist holding him tight against my chest. I melded into him trying desperately to capture the warmth of his body and a sense of familiarity. I needed my Adam, the man I married.


	4. Chapter 3

_I can't even begin to show the gratitude I have for all of your wonderful reviews! The response has been so amazing and I am so happy that a story as quiet as this one is resonating with everyone! Enjoy! _

Chapter 3

"Babe." I grabbed Adam's shoulders and stilled him forcefully in the bathroom. He had been rambling all morning, and if I had to watch him attempt to tie his own tie with shaky hands any longer, I might start rambling myself. I brushed a stray blonde strand away from his face and kissed him before moving his hands and taking both ends of his tie myself. "You are going to do great today. You know what you're doing, and you're going to excel at it. Now, can I bring you lunch?" He visibly relaxed his shoulders and chest releasing their tension.

"I'd like that. What are you going to make?"

"Well, hmmmm." I worked quickly to finish his tie, and he noticed my smirk. "Your favorite." I added, and he grinned like the teenage boy that kissed me for the first time.

"Sushi? Your making sushi?"

"Adam Thomas Steele, did we not talk about lying in church yesterday?" He turned back towards the mirror and studied himself. He gave me a feigned disappointed expression like my tie skills weren't up to par.

"You are just a riot this morning and so full of yourself." I walked out into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee when I felt his arms wrap around me and spin me around. I was so happy we both had returned to a sense of normalcy after the weekend.

"I love you Anastasia Rose." He kissed me quickly as I handed him his to-go cup of coffee, his wallet, his phone, and then his car keys. If we didn't maintain this routine, I'd be woken by Adam cursing unable to find anything with the added accusations that I moved it. We moved towards the doorway as he double-checked that he had everything.

"I think I'm good."

"Don't sting anyone today." He turned and kissed me.

"You'll still love me anyways." The elevator closed, and I shut our door. We had been saying this to each other every morning since we first lived together. After Mawmaw told him the story for the seventh time, we began to joke about it and then eventually formed a morning saying that caressed and protected me like my favorite wool sweater on a breezy day. I could always count on its warmth and that it would always be there.

I pulled my wavy hair into a messy bun and got to work in the kitchen.

"Okay, it's just you and me today." I spoke to the kitchen that had been giving me all kinds of problems while cooking. Everything was just so high-tech. I had spent most of the afternoon yesterday learning how to work the oven, dishwasher, and of course I had to revisit the Keurig again. I rummaged through some of our boxes still sitting in the guest bedroom and got out Mawmaw's worn cookbook. There were familiar scribbles and notes throughout on yellowed paper and some notecards taped in. Adam's favorite meal is chicken and noodles, mashed potatoes, sweet corn, and homemade rolls. Especially the rolls. It's another of Mawmaw's secret recipes. She was a Christian woman and shared everything she had, but the woman was very possessive of her recipes. Starting with the rolls so I could put them by the fireplace to rise, I managed to get along quite well with the kitchen today while I pulled out all the ingredients I needed.

_Flour, check. Eggs, check. Flax seeds, check… _

My mind thrived when I cooked, the purpose and direction completely consuming my thoughts. I threw a Tim McGraw CD in and started on the dough. I got the muffin pan out and pulled small balls of dough apart from the large mass I had kneaded and placed them into the pan. Covering them with a dishtowel, I turned the fireplace on and set them next to it. It was the oddest thing to simply flip a switch to turn on the fireplace.

Next was the chicken, and I grabbed the largest pot I had and filled it with water.

"Okayyyyy…." With hands on my hips, I planned the buttons I needed to push to preheat both the top oven and the one beneath it. It was the second time before I got it right. I placed the chicken in as soon as I heard the alarm sound.

I had showered and dried my hair by the time I came back to put the potatoes on and cook the corn. Managing to squeeze some unpacking in too, I was feeling pretty productive for ten a.m. I was surprised to find egg noodles at the grocery store yesterday, and I had to hide them from Adam. If he saw them, he would have known exactly what I had planned for today, and I wanted to give him something to look forward to this morning to reduce his anxiety I knew he would have about his first day.

Everything was cooking to plan, and I got the Tupperware ready along with one of my totes to carry it in. Next step was my outfit…I was running late so I threw on a white button-down flowy shirt that we purchased from Anthropologie yesterday knowing it could only make Adam's day better with some jean cutoff's and white keds. I even threw on some mascara and lip gloss to help. As I looked in the mirror, the corners of my mouth turned up as I thought about Adam looking at me and how happy he will be when he sees what I have made. Everything smelled delicious, and as I walked in the kitchen, I paused. For the first time, I pictured the apartment as our home. It sure smelled like it.

I placed the tote full of food and a canteen of iced tea on the front seat as I pushed the button to start my car.

"Now if you can, please not ring…I'm not used to it yet, that would just be amazing." I whispered as I pressed the saved destination of his office building on the GPS screen. Traffic wasn't as bad to navigate as I had originally thought; although, it did take a lot of restraint to avoid using words Mawmaw would haunt me for.

Several people in the elevator kept angling their heads towards my bag as the aromas permeated the small space. Even my stomach responded with an intense pang of hunger. The elevator doors opened, and I entered a mostly white space with scattered colorful paintings on the walls. A bench and two modern shaped chairs with strong defined lines were positioned to the right of me while a curved receptionist's desk sat across from me with a large abstract painting hung behind it.

"Hi, I'm Anastasia Steele, and I'm here to visit my husband. I made him lunch." The blonde woman sitting at the desk was the complete opposite of me. She had bleach blonde hair much like Adams got when he had spent all day outside in the summer, and she had the most interesting eye shadow that made her brown eyes pop.

"Oh, the blonde with blue eyes right?" She spoke back warmly, and I smiled.

"Yep, that would be him." Her face formed into confusion and then one of pity, almost.

"He left actually five minutes ago with a group of employees. They went out for lunch." I checked my phone to see if he had texted to let me know, but there was nothing.

"I'm sure he just forgot ."

"Yeah, you're probably right. He was just caught up in the first day…stuff." I was struggling to keep it together. All my hard work just kept resonating with the scent of the food, and my excitement wafted away in the same manner. It was like going from strawberries to onions, there was no palate cleanser to prepare you.

"Thank you for helping me." I told her and searched for her name tag. "Kelly."

"Ana?" I don't know when it happened that Christian's voice became a source of comfort, but in that moment it felt so right to hear the deep commanding tone. Or I just needed to hear it.

"Hi."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just made some food. I thought Adam might be hungry, but it seems he went out for lunch so…" I was on the verge of tears, and it was embarrassing. I was sure that my cheeks and the skin of my chest had just turned a scarlet hue. I felt new already and out of place, but to have my husband forget a lunch date and having to endure this realization with an audience, it just became a little too much.

"Here…" He grabbed my arm and led me through a set of glass doors. The warmth of his fingers clutching me merged with the scorching heat of the volcano threatening to erupt within me. There were several men and women in tailored suits and fitted dresses. I suddenly felt overwhelmingly underdressed, and it just made the ache in my chest swell. I was led into an enormous office probably the size of our living room, dining room, and kitchen combined. There were large t.v's scattered on the walls, more abstract paintings, and a mostly uncluttered workspace.

"There is a bathroom in there if you want to use that." I finally realized that he had led me into his office knowing I would break down out there if he hadn't. Placing my tote on the couch opposite his desk, I tried to compose myself but failed miserably.

"I'm so sorry for this." I fanned my face away from him, too embarrassed to turn around and look into his intense gray eyes.

"It's fine. Did you plan this for him?"

"Uhmmmm." My chest shook as I kept the tears at bay despite the blurriness of another abstract painting in front of me. Shades of blue, purple, red and pink morphed into a shifting kaleidoscope, and I felt suddenly dizzy. "Yeah….kinda."

"Well I'd hate for that food to go to waste. Would you like to join me for lunch and then I can give you a tour? Adam might be back by then too." The mention of his name ignited a flame in me. All I needed was one text, but the lack of acknowledgement hurt worse. It meant he had completely forgotten about me. The anger cloaked my sadness or at least masked it enough to where I wasn't afraid I'd burst into tears anymore.

"That would be really nice. I don't know if it's your taste of food or not."

"I'm sure I'll like it." He pulled off his suit coat and hung it on the back of his office chair. I studied his office more in depth now that I was at least a fraction more composed. It was modernly designed with a traditional mahogany desk, a bar in the corner, and a private bathroom.

"Push all my appointments back until I say otherwise." His finger released a button, and he stood with a smile.

"Yes, Sir." Came a reply from his phone.

"You really didn't have to do that. I can leave the food here and take mine home."

"Ana, are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Let's eat then." I began to pull out all the Tupperware, the plates, and silverware.

"Jesus, this is what you made him for lunch?" I was biting at the inside of my lower lip to keep myself from dissolving into a pond of tears.

"Mhmmm." Weakly smiling, I prepared him a plate of food and poured him some of the iced tea I had made. As I reached over to hand him his plate, I noticed that the dish shook because my hands were slightly trembling from the blast of adrenaline. Our eyes met and his chiseled features almost appeared to soften as he gave me a reassuring smile.

"If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to eat it." I started to prepare myself a plate when I heard his moans of approval.

"Ana, this is amazing."

"You think so? It's my grandmother's recipe."

"I like your grandmother." The ease in which we seemed to be able to converse with had returned. He leaned back against the couch with his plate and devoured the dish.

"She would have liked you." I commented, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. He had such a grace about him as he ate, well when he did anything like all of his actions were practiced and perfected but naturally displayed.

"I doubt that."

"Why do you do that?" He set his plate down, and I placed a second helping on his dish.

"Do what?"

"Act like no one likes you."

"Because no one does, they just act like they do."

"I like you…genuinely."

"Ana, I'd be hard-pressed to find someone you didn't like." He spoke honestly and continued to eat. I started to chew not really tasting the food.

"Tell me about your grandmother."

"Don't try to change the subject." I quipped back, and he set his plate down and studied me.

"Ana, I'm not a nice person…"

"So you didn't just save me from making a complete fool of myself in the lobby?"

"You're different."

"Well an inherently mean person wouldn't discriminate with their evil, correct?"

"Well from the triumphant expression you asked that with, I'm assuming you know the answer."

"It's not a triumphant expression I'm wearing, I'm smiling because this is the kind of response I have to you. You have the ability to make people smile, I just wish I wasn't the only person to see this side of you." He was unusually playful compared to the mild moods I had dealt with. It was so comforting to see.

"I'm sorry about Adam. His job requires him to build a rapport with employees. We want our employees to feel comfortable approaching him because many of them may need his counsel on a variety of sensitive issues such as alleged claims of sexual harassment. Adam has to handle these cases with extraordinary caution. We recently dealt with a fall out from an interoffice affair that happened in top management."

"You mean married employees cheating with each other." He nodded, and I grew weary for them; those poor marriages to be in such disarray that they stray to seek happiness in the arms of another.

"That's horrible. I trust that Adam will handle those issues with sensitivity and intelligence. He has a way with people like that, and he's a great husband when he's not forgetting lunch dates." He smiled as if my response surprised him.

"I'll be free for dinner on Wednesday evening." He finally spoke again after he cleared his plate for the second time. Christian sure seemed to have a hearty appetite.

"Perfect. I'll let Adam know. He will be so pleased. Is there anything you don't eat?"

"I'll eat whatever you make." His phone interrupted us, and I put all the food away as he discussed a contract on the phone, most of the conversation a foreign language to me. After the phone call, he gave me a tour of his offices. He had so many employees that I couldn't imagine the pressure he was under to support all of them, and I then had to wonder who he confided in. Being as guarded as he seemed, it worried me that the weight he kept placing on himself would grow too heavy without another to help him carry it.

"Thank you for today." I told him as we stood in the lobby of his building.

"Thank you for lunch. I'll see you Wednesday." As I turned to leave, Adam was entering the building and his smile quickly faded when he saw me.

"Ana, I'm so sorry."

"We'll talk about it later." I smiled, and kissed his cheek. Discussing an issue in front of an audience of people didn't seem appropriate nor was it the way we handled our arguments.

That night, Adam leaned against the doorframe, his head resting quietly against the wood. He wasn't able to make it home for dinner so I had eaten alone, unpacked the rest of our boxes, and I had just ran myself into exhaustion at the gym downstairs. He was only wearing a towel wrapped snuggly around his tight waist, stray droplets of water resting on his skin. His hair slowly dripped still wet from the shower.

My anger quickly dissolved during my run as I felt my feet pound hard on the treadmill, and I inhaled cleansing breaths of air. I was never one to stay angry for long. It was just not in my nature.

"Babe, I'm sorry about today."

"I know you are. I just…" Taking time to collect my thoughts, I climbed onto the bed and curled my legs beneath me. "I worry about how easily you failed to think of me. If you wanted to go to lunch elsewhere, I would have understood and saved the food for dinner tonight, but you didn't even text to let me know…" As tired as I was and as much as I wanted to crawl into bed with him and feel his body cover mine because he was home and I needed the reassurance that we were still the same, I knew we had to discuss today. It would breed resentment if we didn't. He inhaled deeply, and his hands worked nervously against each other.

"I can't justify what happened today. What I did was wrong. I can't imagine how it must have made you feel. All I can tell you is that I truly just forgot about lunch. I don't know how it happened, it just did and I'm so sorry baby." He moved right in front of me as I sat at the corner of our bed. Bending down, he cupped my face in between his hands, his face only inches away from mine. I could feel his warm breath caressing my cheeks as he gazed intensely into my eyes.

"I'm not angry." I quivered, my emotions rising to the surface. "But I won't lie and tell you that I'm not hurt or scared that these changes are happening without any control."

"It was one time Ana. I made a mistake. Don't cry. I hate seeing you sad." His arms enveloped me, and I buried my head into his chest and inhaled. He smelled different not of old spice or the smell of beer when he would stop at his best friend Jared's house after work. It was a muskier scent, more earthy…he smelled of something unfamiliar. I broke, the tears escaping with desperation, and I cried for the changes that kept happening to my marriage, to Adam. Slowly, he rocked me and I could almost feel the wood of the porch swing gliding beneath me. I started to calm faster than I would have had this been happening in Montesano. For some reason, the changes seemed unending, and I became tiredly afraid that I'd grow used to them…and maybe one day I wouldn't even notice but that terrified me more.

"You smell different."

"It's just a new soap."


	5. Chapter 4

_Thank you again for all your amazing responses to this story! This chapter will hopefully help clear up some confusion, at least for a while. I will try to reply to every review today! You all deserve it! Thank you Thank you again! Enjoy!_

Chapter 4

The city had its place of routine for him and order with the same view beneath him for the past ten years. With the lingering smell of Ana's lunch still permeating the air, he inhaled deeply stealing the last remnants of her presence. As his gray eyes remained fixed gazing out the window, he couldn't see anything through the glass but her. The image of her falling to pieces at the receptionist's desk consumed him. Her clouded blues revealed a fragmenting core, the splintering of her soul.

He leaned back in his chair and spun the pen between his fingers faster. Back and forth, the metal briskly stroked his hand as a flurry of frenzied thoughts imprisoned his mind. He never had a set plan after he offered the job to Adam. Who, he might add, was doing a damn good job at ruining his marriage for him. But after spending more time with her, hearing her delicate voice and the calming whispers of her spirit, he realized the difficulty of winning her. And in winning her, he wanted everything of her. Most of all, he wanted her to come to him, with only a few minor helpful advances on his part.

The hard lines of the buildings seemed much harsher as the gentle caress of Ana's voice kept replaying in his mind.

_I'm smiling because this is the kind of response I have to you._

Over and over, the peaceful tones echoed, slaying his every thought. There was this undeniable ease that washed over him when he was with her that freed his chest from the weight of tension it held. His cell phone began to ring disrupting the reverie and his compulsive thoughts of Ana which were welcome considering he had no idea how to disentangle the intensity of them.

"Mr. Grey."

"I need Adam Steele out of town Wednesday for a week. A week is all I'll need." He was tempted to say forever but was afraid of what the consequences might entail considering the imagination of his fixer. He's initiated some creative remedies, but the fixer's repertoire didn't contain murder. Evil he might be sometimes, a killer he was not.

"_Well an inherently mean person wouldn't discriminate with their evil, correct?" _

Free is what he felt when he was with her, crazy is what he felt when he wasn't.

"Done. Any specific location for his mini-vacation?"

"I want it work-related. Make it Hong Kong. It's much more suitable for that length of time. Also, tempt him. Keep her similar to Ana and report back to me about the end result."

"Yes, Sir." He hung up and considered hitting the pool for laps to exhaust both his body and mind.

"Mr. Grey, your brother is here." Andrea, his receptionist, had the unfortunate opportunity of sleeping with his brother, and her tone exposed just how well that had ended. The truth is trying to find a receptionist that Elliot wouldn't hit on would be damn near impossible.

"Send him in." He heard the door open, and he swiveled his chair around to be met with Elliot in jeans and a black v-neck. At 27, he looked five years younger than that. No stress and copious amounts of sex would have that result.

"Hey big bro." Something wasn't right. Elliot and he were siblings but you could hardly label them as friends. Elliot had a better chance for attention without him so they rarely spent any time together, but even he knew when Elliot wasn't himself. Call it some fucked up brother intuition that they vaguely shared.

"Elliot. It's the middle of the afternoon on a workday. Don't you have a secretary to bang?"

"Well yours hates me."

"What is it that you do again?"

"Well according to Dad, currently my job is to make sure I don't contract any STD's." He sat on the couch and then lay down stretching his long legs out as if they were shrink and patient. "Priority number one." He mocked their father, and he had to chuckle at it. If anything, they both had the common thread of hating him.

"What's going on? You actually have an attention span today."

"Oh you know, the usual…one of my lays told me she was pregnant with my baby." Little people…. they ruined lives and then parents ruined their lives in return. It was a vicious cycle; one undoubtedly his brother would most likely abhor.

"How far along is she?"

"It's not true." He spoke as he raked his hands through the bleach blonde curls of summer, but even summer couldn't hide the winter in his eyes. He was worried.

"Dad always told us that people are out to get us for our money and for the Grey name." He added, his tone unchanging but his hands now nervously pulling at the hem of his shirt. It wasn't money. Money wasn't an issue. Elliot had his inheritance, and his mother would never allow any of them to venture under six figures. She viewed it as poverty and akin to cruel and unusual punishment. And when it came down to it, it was not an abrogation of the Eighth Amendment, but he would probably never allow it for Elliot either. So, his obvious freaking the fuck out episode dealt more with the idea of becoming a father, which didn't shock him either. Their mother gave them just enough love to differentiate them all from sociopaths.

"It doesn't matter what Dad believes. What will matter are the results of a paternity test. If that is your baby, what will you do?"

"Pay her."

"You won't be involved at all?" The idea of a pregnant woman automatically brought the vision of Ana into the forefront of his mind, much larger than the potential cluster-fuck his brother just inserted himself into. He could definitely see her, a rounded belly in a sundress and barefoot.

Fuck, he was fucking losing it.

"I don't know Christian. All I know is it's not my baby." If the incessant tapping of his brother's heel against the floor were any sign of his confidence, he knew his next call would be to their family attorney.

"What the fuck is that smell?" He inhaled the scent of Ana's cooking.

_Home_.

"Take-out."

It was Wednesday morning when he heard the expectant lines from Andrea.

"Mr. Grey, I have an Anastasia Steele on line 2 for you."

"Christian Grey." He answered to convey some indifference to her call.

"Hey, it's Ana." He smiled.

"Yes, I know. How can I help you?"

"Well, it seems Adam has to leave for Hong Kong so he won't be able to attend dinner tonight. I just wanted to see if you were still interested. "

"As long as he's okay with it."

"Of course." She laughed, one that released the anxiety he held about her possibly canceling dinner. "It's no problem. He wants us to eat without him since I bought all the food, and we thought you might want to try some more home-cooking."

"Okay, well I'm still interested in dinner. Still 7?"

"Yep! I'm making steaks, roasted vegetables, and apple pie. Are you allergic to anything?"

"No."

"Great. Well I'll see you tonight."

"Hi! Come in! I'm running so behind. I'm sorry." She ushered him in, her chestnut hair draped down her shoulder in a thick braid caressing the swell of her breast. In a fitted navy blue v-neck t-shirt, he was finally able to see the soft curves her sun dresses and billowing shirts usually masked. The shorts also showcased her sun-kissed toned legs. Her bright pink toenails popped as her bare feet glided across the floor. Her blues were brighter tonight, an excited expression that he recognized from the first night he met her… the ones she wore when she studied his mother's roses.

"It's fine." The apartment seemed warmer as if she had the same effect on it as she did him. Following her in, she paused in the kitchen and studied the ingredients laid out on the kitchen island. Hands on her hips, her eyes scanned feverishly.

"You're wearing the same expression I wear when I work." So easily her face relaxed, and she smiled.

"I'm just organizing the recipe in my head. It really shouldn't be compared to the responsibility you have. Well first things first, what would you like to drink?"

"Whatever you're having." He replied, as she pulled a beer from the fridge, popped the cap off, and set it in front of him. An array of vegetables were washed and ready to be cut; their colors bright and vibrant against the backdrop of Carerra marble. Two steaks rested on white China, and his gaze moved to Ana washing her hands at the sink. The water cascaded onto her delicate fingers as they glided back and forth creating a rich foamy lather. Carnal thoughts began to infest his mind, and the sight of her in the kitchen made him despise Adam more. Lucky bastard.

"Do you need any help?" She dried her hands and studied the ingredients again.

"Well only if you want. I need to cut up the vegetables and make the topping for the steaks." She pursed her lips and opened the oven where the sweet smell of pie erupted and painted the apartment with its aroma.

"Why don't we both cut the vegetables? Four hands are faster than two." For the first time in regards to his abilities, he lacked his routine confidence. He despised feeling inadequate, lesser than a counterpart, and he knew she would witness a crack in expertise.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. Feel free to sit and relax. That's what Adam does. He almost chopped a couple fingers off years ago, and he refuses to participate now…although, I wonder if he did it on purpose. He did the same thing with the dishwasher… loading it wrong so I wouldn't ask him to do it again."

God, the blonde child…

"If you show me, I'm a quick study." She didn't skip a beat.

"Okay, come over here then." He washed his hands, and she took the time to grab a beer for herself. Thankful, she didn't notice or at least pretended not to notice his irritation; he hurried to dry his hands.

"I know how to follow a recipe, but I am not a chef." She commented as she moved next to him. "I'm not an insanely fast chopper, and there is no need to rush. My grandmother never rushed her recipes. She claimed they tasted different that way." Her voice maintained a gentle ease that held the release he only felt after closing a deal, but that high diminished quickly while hers lingered. Just as the aromas of her cooking hovered gracefully in the air, her presence remained like the laws of nature were afraid to disrupt such beauty.

She's the lone flower in a desert, leaving many to wonder how she's thrived in such a harsh, barren environment. She took his hands in hers, the touch affecting him more than her. The warmth of her fingers merging into his tested his control, but neurotic commands were sent to his cock to stay strong, to resist the urge to succumb to her innocent gestures. Undeniably, his body was reading too much into her touch than need be.

"So, I read an article on you today." She spoke kindly as she continued to direct his hands. Beginning with dissecting a pepper, they were both extremely slow. Gently and thoroughly, she showed him how she wanted each vegetable cut, but he was panicked and terrified that he might cut her if the knife slipped.

"Depending on the article, I'm not sure if I should be preparing to litigate my case and defend myself …" Her laugh distracted him for a moment, but he forced himself to concentrate again.

"It's nothing like that. It talked about your accomplishments and something they called an IPO of your company. I wish I knew more, but the article lost me there."

So grateful for a subject he was well-versed in when he was struggling with cutting a damn vegetable, he began to explain the basics of a public offering. He answered her questions about what he felt, what the first days following an IPO were like, and the chaos right before.

"I can see why you're so successful. It makes you happy." Her voice seemed distant belying her scheme. It was then he realized she had moved to the other counter and that he had chopped several vegetables, pretty fucking well, he might add. An odd pang of victory and accomplishment filled him….over vegetables. She prompted him on purpose. Somehow, she had an innate sense for what people needed.

"You did that on purpose." He accused, and she just shrugged her shoulders.

"I quite simply enjoyed listening to you talk about something you're proud of."  
She had finished the rest of the vegetables and the steak topping. After adding seasoning, she placed the pan of vegetables in the oven, her moves a relaxed precision.

"We can go outside while I throw these on the grill." He followed her out bringing her beer with him. She placed the steaks on the grill and then joined him at her patio table. Her fingers untied her braid and threaded gently through the wavy strands separating them. Her hair then fell gracefully caressing her shoulders.

"Sorry for dinner not being ready. I stopped at a photographer's studio this afternoon, and the time just got away from me."

"You found something you like about the city?" He feigned shock that wasn't difficult considering his playful behavior was a fright to his system.

She threw her hair tie at him and shook her head, but her smirk beamed illuminating the patio as the sun began to take shelter.

"I like several things about the city. It's just different."

"You like photography?" Of course, he knew she did. It was during the process of screening her that he learned this enticing fact. She attended the local community college and received a certificate of achievement in comprehensive photography.

"I photographed in Montesano, mostly lifestyle, newborn, and some senior pictures. I love lifestyle and newborn, though. It's like being given a gift to be let into the intimate moments of a family, and most of these moments aren't forward. It's the way the parents look so reverently at their children or how the children frown at their siblings. It's universal but unique for each family and dynamic." She had pulled her knees up to her chest, a gesture signaling familiarity and something as close to intimacy as he had ever felt.

"Oh, I'll show you my favorite picture." She jumped up excitedly and disappeared inside. As she returned, she carried a black binder and moved a chair closer to him. Her hair brushed his bicep as she sat, the feeling magnetic making him tense for a moment. She curled a finger under the lining of the binder and opened it. He hated to admit that he was quite surprised with how talented she was. The photographs were framed well, the lighting perfect, and the moments she captured were exactly as she described, intimate. And the only reason he knew anything about photography was because his family had been photographed for countless magazine articles since he could remember. He had a yearning for knowledge early on so he listened to the crew's conversation when they were setting up equipment. Over the years, his relationships with photographers had only increased with his success.

"That baby is two weeks old. Her husband had just finished chemotherapy probably two months before that. I was in their bedroom photographing them while she went down for a bottle. It was one of those moments you knew you had to capture, and she had tears when she watched them. I think she cherished every moment of seeing them together after being afraid that she might never witness it at all." The tone of her voice had changed to an aching sadness. An acute pain enveloped him when he heard the depression of her voice.

"It's really beautiful. I'm surprised you don't have children yet?" She stood and walked towards the grill. The mood of their dinner altered quickly. The vision he had earlier returned with a venomous grip on his sanity. She was barefoot and in a flowy sundress with a protruding belly, but this time she sat with her legs crossed on a blanket in a field painted in vibrant petals. The flowers swayed in the wind and reached for the warmth of the afternoon sun while her hands gently caressed the swell of her belly as she echoed whispers of love.

_Jesus. _He quickly shook his head to rid the image even though it was intoxicatingly captivating. Elliot had mind-fucked him earlier with his little people talk.

"We've had some trouble, but we're working on it." He needed to change the subject quickly simply because it had depressed her mood, and now he envisioned them 'working on it' which ushered in an extreme sense of anxiety and compulsion to lay his own stakes. He simmered the growl clawing to escape with thoughts of making Ana his.

"I'm sorry. So are you going to pursue photography here in the city?" He decided to employ her earlier tactic that seemed to work flawlessly. Her mood lightened, and the familiar lighthearted tones encased them once again.

They had moved to the dining room table as she placed the plate of food in front of him. The topping she dressed the steaks in stung his nose in a good way as the familiar scent of horseradish wafted through the apartment. She had cooked the steaks perfectly, and the first bite melted. There was a resounding combustion of flavors and feelings ignited by a meal created by both their hands, together. Too often, the feelings she evoked in him terrified him, made him want to pursue a rabid control binge, and gorge on a purchase of twenty companies if only because he could.

"What do you think?" She ate slowly, and he remembered watching her at lunch eat the same way.

"Good. Do you always eat that way? I might have to start calling you Turtle."

"I'm in no rush." She laughed. "I've noticed that everyone here eats fast, walks fast, and talks fast. I think that is the biggest change…the pace."

Time for crisis management and a change of approach. He now realized how damn near impossible the task of bedding her would be and not only that, but pulling Ana out of her marriage would be akin to summoning her to commit a carnal sin. Convincing an angel to relinquish her feathery wings in exchange for sex presents a staggering, formidable challenge even for him. He didn't know whether he wanted her more because of it or if it just relentlessly pissed him off.

"Will you be attending church Sunday? I haven't been in a while." Over fifteen years and they only went for six months because his father needed a hasty PR fix after being caught having an affair. It was his mother's idea. She played the Christian wife unable to divorce and so willing to forgive because it was God's plan. Of course six months later, his father was back in the good graces of the public.

"Yes." She looked surprised but quickly concealed it with a warm smile as she did anytime she was nervous. "We found a smaller congregation that suits us. The larger churches are nice too, but I enjoy a traditional service with the traditional hymns. Are you interested in going?" Her restraint of excitement when she asked was comical considering she bared all of her emotions. It was the hitch an octave higher that exposed her when she asked.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Why do you go?"

Gently, she rested her chin on her hand propped up on the table.

"Well I go because it's a renewal of my faith and strength. Also, gathering with a group of people to focus on something other than our daily life is humbling."

Quickly the tone of the conversation changed, or at least his perception of it. What he thought he could detach himself from, she pulled him in. Her voice could make bankruptcy sound appealing.

"You know, you have this uncanny ability to make someone feel like home."

"You have this ability to make me want more for mine."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I've had this home. Its beautiful, perfectly sized and just the right amount of décor. Since I've moved here and well when I met you, I keep thinking I should add more photographs to the wall. I sometimes think that I should add another room."

"There's so much of this world you haven't seen yet."

"There's so much you have missed."

"Touché." She never acted with triumphant expressions even when she should; a beautiful living example of humility. He never thought it truly existed in such a pure form.

"Dessert?" He nodded, and she grabbed their plates clearing them at the sink before pulling out two more. She dished two slices of apple pie and brought them back over.

The first bite, he thought he might orgasm over. The pastry melted with the apple filling, and it all consumed him more than he consumed it.

"This is amazing."

"My grandmother." She commented as she took slow and maneuvered bites.

"You could sell this."

"It would be nice to have something to do with all this time. I've always worked since I was in junior high. I detasseled corn in the summers, and then freshman year I worked in our local diner until I started at the florist shop I just left."

"You have time now."

"I know. It's just now I have so many options. I could go back to school. I never had the urge to, but I feel like the past couple days have opened my eyes to these new possibilities. It's given me a feeling I've never had before…"

"What?"

"Restlessness."

"You're just figuring it all out."

"Yeah. I guess so."

He demanded to help her clean but she was too stubborn to allow him. After dessert, they both remained and talked longer than he ever had with anyone. It was so damn easy. Three beers later, he was even more playful determined to make her laugh. Her nose creased, and she ran her teeth over her bottom lip before the melodic waves of amusement expelled its laughter. As she talked about gardening, she spoke animatedly with her hands. They moved across the table as she explained the layout and what she planted. As he watched her fingers glide across the hard surface, he moved to a vision of them raking his chest. And for the first time ever, he imagined himself having missionary sex. He only took women from behind. The intimacy of eye contact during sex seemed wasteful of what little he had to give, and he didn't want to lead women on. They were too unpredictable and emotional; two things he lacked time and desire to deal with. But Ana, she glided beautifully beneath him, echoing harmonious moans, and he could stare into her blues. His body ached to feel her under him, covering her while they rocked in communion. None of his attraction to her seemed logical, but it felt right. The current problem was that she didn't see him sexually. In all of his years of dealing with women, he had never met one whose breathing didn't increase visibly in his presence or who failed to flagrantly flirt with him. He needed her to see him other than the friend she felt he was.

He pulled his shirt off and moved into the bathroom when he heard his phone ring.

"Grey." He answered quickly seeing it was his fixer, Ros.

"It seems our friend Adam is one of the good ones."

"What? He didn't take the bait?"

"Nope. According to Laurel, he talked about Ana the entire time and immediately returned to his room when she put the moves on him."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He growled. "Who the fuck are these people?"

"Keep on it. We've got a week to make this happen."

"Okay." Ros replied amused and indifferent to the entire situation.

"Also, send Chelsea to my apartment Monday. Ana has agreed to photograph me that day at 5:00 so send Chelsea at 4:30." He felt in need of a release and even though he'd prefer Ana, Chelsea would work fine for what he had planned. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

"Alright."

"Thanks, Ros."

* * *

_I wanted to write this at the end of this chapter because I didn't want to ruin the surprise that Adam wasn't cheating for those who might have assumed he was. The change in scent was meant to represent one of the larger changes between them. She has known him all her life and they started dating her Freshman year of High School. So it's all she knows and has become a safety and comfort for her. This change was symbolic of how he's changing but also how he fails to realize how much that simple change would mean to her. Again thank you so much for reading! If anyone has any questions I answer faster on my facebook, simply because I'm on my phone more. Search Deenz Fanfiction on Facebook for my account. _


	6. Chapter 5

_Thank you again to everyone who has responded to this story in some way! It has been truly amazing AND inspiring! Please enjoy! _

Chapter 5

"Hey baby." The melodic echo of Adam's voice filled the darkness of the room and the shadowy alleys of my mind as I slowly returned from my dreams. His gentle murmurs caressed me as I let the phone rest on my ear. My arms laced around his pillow embracing it warmly as if it were Adam. I inhaled deeply drawing into my lungs the familiar scent of Old Spice, his usual smell and the one that I asked him to go back to. It was an easy conversation, one where I explained how it was _his _scent, the only scent I knew of him. It was all that I had ever known since I was a freshman in high school. If anything, it represented more of a sanctuary than anything else currently.

"Hi."

"I'm sorry for waking you. I just got out of the shower and wanted to call before I went to bed." His voice in the darkness covered me with more warmth than the comforter. Even miles apart, he felt close.

"It's fine. You know. I don't sleep well anyways when you're not here. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. How was dinner? Or better question, how did Mawmaw's apple pie do in the city?"

"Oh, you know her." I smiled. "She's still caring for people's stomachs even from the grave."

"Sounds like her."

"Dinner went well though. He wants to attend church with me on Sunday."

"Really?" Adam's shock made me chuckle.

"Yeah, I was a little surprised as well."

"I had no idea he was Christian."

"You know I don't think he is, but I think he's curious."

"Well, either way it can't hurt. He might hate it or he might like it and want to attend again."

"I think so too. How is your trip?"

"It's been a little overwhelming, but I am doing pretty well. The situation isn't as serious as they made it sound …I got hit on tonight."

I couldn't help but laugh. Not because the idea of my husband being hit on is outrageous, but I knew it was a spark outside of our marriage I'd never be able to give him. I also trusted him to not act on it.

"Doesn't surprise me. You're probably something different there with your blonde hair and blue eyes."

"She looked like you though which was weird. I mean definitely not as beautiful." I scoffed and gingerly smirked at his added attempt and his sudden struggle for words.

"I just found it crazy that there is someone that looked so much like you in Hong Kong, of all places."

"Yeah." I decided I should change the subject to give the poor man a lifeline. "I scheduled our consult with the fertility specialist next week for Thursday. I'll remind you again when you're home. "

"You're excited, huh?" I could tell he was in bed. His voice was enveloped in drowsy warmth.

"Yes!" I shot back as my heart started to race and delicate flutters caressed my belly in anticipation. I felt these same butterflies when I had scheduled the appointment. Once again, it was all becoming a real possibility, one that we had doubted years ago would ever come to fruition. I dreamt of our baby several times the past six years. I'd imagine a little girl with her tiny hands exploring Adam's face, her blue eyes so inquisitive, and her blonde curls bouncing as Adam rocked her. Sometimes, they would be so vivid. I'd wake up and almost feel nauseous at the pain that followed. I'd always escape to the bathroom to cry. Adam felt guilty enough that I'd never want to burden him more.

"Me too. You'll have everything."

"Well, I wanted to tell you that I am thinking about going back to school. I've missed enrollment this fall so we have almost a year before I would go, but I have been looking at Cornish College of Arts. They have an amazing photography program." I started to ramble, my excitement on the outskirts of bursting.

"Ana…" I recognized his tone, and I knew instantly he hated the idea. "Why do you want your bachelors? Your associate's degree is just fine. And if all goes well, we'll have a baby by then. You remember what Dr. Peters told us, that with your age and because you are so healthy, our chances of success are really good."

"Uhm…" I stuttered unprepared for his reaction. "I can do both Adam."

"But why would you want to? Where did this come from?" He sounded frustrated and upset at the mere mention of wanting something different for myself.

_Christian would understand…_

I winced, confused as to where that statement came from or why I thought of Christian during a disagreement with Adam. Shaking my head, I couldn't linger on it now.

"I know it's new, it's new for me too. I just know I want that accomplishment. It's exciting ...I'm really excited about this. If the reason you're being so unsupportive right now is because of money, I have a year to find scholarships."

"I'm not being unsupportive."

"Yes you are. I have supported you in everything you've wanted to do. I'd find ways to make it work for us."

"I can do both." I added again, needing him to believe me if anything. Support would be nice, but I just needed him to believe I was capable.

"Okay, well it's late here, and I have to be up early."

"You're upset. I'd really prefer us to settle this otherwise I won't be able to go back to sleep."

"Ana, I'm really tired."

"So am I Adam. I just need us to find some resolution on this."

"How about we discuss it again tomorrow?"

"Okay." I sighed, knowing that we'd be circling the same issue again unless he had some epiphany in that time span.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." I hung up once he replied. There was no way I was going back to sleep.

The next day when Adam called, he'd successfully avoided the issue of school. It was more frustrating than anything, and I spent Thursday, Friday, and Saturday in a state of irritation at his reaction. It was Saturday night when Grace called and asked if I wanted to come over for lunch on Sunday. She wants to put a vegetable and fruit garden in her backyard and asked for my help. I couldn't thank her enough for the distraction. My hands weren't trained to be idle; they needed to work whether it was with a camera in hand or soil dredged between my fingers. Household chores were obligatory for my hands, and my mind knew the difference.

Sunday morning, I stood before my closet and ran my fingers over the hangers. After studying my options, I pulled a white with an embroidered blue pattern boat neck dress. It was a fit and flare that hit just above my knees. My hair draped my shoulders in soft curls, and I picked some blue flats. Turning off the light in our closet, I paused and felt the absence of Adam as I stared at his clothes. I missed him.

Christian looked nervous, his fingers tapping against his thigh as we sat in the pew. We sat towards the back to make him more comfortable. The service started with traditional hymns that moved to the offering and communion. After a short prayer, Pastor Stevens approached the altar. He was an older gentleman bordering his sixties and had peppered ear length hair. He gelled it back to free his face from stray strands that might annoy him as he delivered his sermon. He had a warm face; it was mostly his large brown eyes, but his smile could also melt hearts. I could see Christian's foot tapping nervously as we sat in the pew. It would be inappropriate to place my hand on his thigh to calm him as I would Adam so I inched over to offer his hand a reassuring squeeze. As I quickly clutched his fingers and went to let go, his hand clung to mine. The warmth claimed mine, and I searched his face for reason but he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. I felt my hand still, paralyzed with uncertainty. One finger at a time, my hand relaxed and melded into his, an interlocking of something much larger than our hands. It felt…right. So, I rested my hand in his, and his foot stopped tapping against the floor. His entire body calmed visibly. I turned and smiled, my blue eyes meeting his grays. He looked surprised at the gesture, at the intimacy of touch.

My heart ached for him.

Squeezing gently, I finally received a smile in return. I was so appreciative that my vision blurred with tears, and I just about came undone to see him void of his control, of his mask that even with me he still fractionally maintained. Something changed in him right then. It may have been small, but his chest expanded just a little bit more with each breath.

"He takes every soul. We take every soul; a broken soul, a happy soul, and even a questioning soul. You might question your faith and that's okay. You _should _question your faith sometimes. Without it, you will never know the unlimited depths of your faith. If you're lost or wandering, he's with you every step of the way and if you're struggling with your belief…if you need something tangible in your moment of doubt, _we are here." _

Pastor Stevens motioned towards the congregation of people, his arms spread wide and then his fists pulled into his chest.

"We. Are. Here. For. _You." _

In that moment, his sermon pierced me, taking hold of my current fears about my changing paths. Everything was brought sharply to the forefront of my mind, and I felt forced to face my reservations. I have questioned my faith several times in the past especially when I terribly missed my parents. I remember before a homecoming dance watching Angela's dad wipe tears from his face when she came down the stairs in her dress. When my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, I also doubted my convictions and my strength. Maybe, I wasn't devout enough. Had I failed him in some way to take yet another person from me? And Pastor Stevens' sermon rang true, I found my feet venturing deeper into the garden of my faith after a period of blind neglect. Weeds cleared themselves as I made my return and always more fruit existed than my visit there before. In this very moment, I no longer question the legitimacy of the garden but of the feet that led me there. I now question myself. The directions of my paths have changed and my feet are eager to run, but my heart feels like it's betraying the one path I created years ago. Maybe my mind just needed to remind my heart that my feet would separate and walk both.

"We will believe for you until you are ready to return." Pastor Stevens finished, and we all stood to applaud. The warmth in my hand dissipated as Christian pulled his fingers away, and I did not yet understand what that moment meant to either of us. For now, my spirit fluttered its wings wildly with restoration in the knowledge I gained about myself here today. Perhaps, the guidance was not an answer specifically to my qualms, but at least it offered an outlined path to navigate it all.

Christian and I both exited quickly. I could tell he preferred to leave than socialize. Taylor waited and opened the door as we both climbed in. Almost immediately, the sharp sound of ice against glass resounded as he poured himself some scotch.

"That bad, huh?"

"No, actually I enjoyed it. You were right that it is humbling. You seemed lost in your thoughts." I shrugged my shoulders, hesitant to talk about it considering how well it went with Adam. Yet, Christian had accomplished goals I couldn't even begin to dream so I felt in good company. As the car began to move, the fluid motion helped me confess in the same manner.

"I just, I had these plans." I began shakily. "I wanted a family as soon as I could have one. I'd stay home and enjoy it. I'd photograph on the side but now…I don't know if that's all I want anymore. It feels wrong to change though, like I'm pulling the rug out from under people."

"From who?"

"Adam, and his family. They have wanted grandchildren since we married. I'm not saying I don't completely want this anymore. I want children, but I also desire something else as well. Maybe, I just don't know what I yearn for anymore. I want to go back to school, feel that sense of accomplishment of having something of mine. It's silly." I shook my head as I saw Christian's brow furrow. He didn't want me to change either, a flower that never wilts. I had always been this constant for people and anytime I strayed from the set path, there was always someone encouraging me to stay as I was.

"It's not silly Ana. You're 24 years old, you're not supposed to have it all figured out."

"It just feels wrong to change, like I'm taking something from everyone."

"Essentially you're giving them something new of yourself, not taking anything. You're building from a strong foundation. "

It made perfect sense to hear it from him. His forceful voice unable to hide the confidence he felt, and I lacked.

"I guess you're right."

Maybe I had just worded my desires wrong for Adam? My hands were twisting again, my fingers entwining and releasing with hushed anxiety.

"I mean what if no one understands?"

_Specifically Adam, _but I kept that thought to myself. His support could lighten so much of my heavy heart. That conversation had placed a weight upon our relationship that I was desperately trying to pick at to free, but the more I worked at it the more I realized I was giving myself up in the process. It shouldn't have been placed there to begin with.

"Well, I understand." And when I looked at him, he did understand completely. I didn't feel criticized and I didn't feel judged. "And who cares if no one else understands Ana?"

"I do." There were too many people in my life that counted on me, that I counted on.

"You shouldn't. I don't. "

Distant again, his mask was firmly affixed. I moved my gaze towards the window. Blurred rolling landscape filled my vision, but an excited pace of possibilities also invaded my mind. I wasn't quite sure how long it would take for me to complete school especially with a child…none of that mattered. Having something of my own, a piece of accomplishment that I achieved sounded amazing. It was a bigger garden that held more vegetables and fruit than I could see, just ones I had never planted before.

The familiar estate of Christian's parents came into view. Pointed peaks of several windows in the front gave it a warmer feel. The large rounded archway framed two enormous wooden double doors making your entrance seem something of importance. The warm tone on tone bricks of tans and browns gave the home an earthy feel and enhanced the grandiosity as it had the illusion of spanning endlessly.

"It's just as beautiful as I remember."

"Yes, my parents are quite good with appearances." Their yard had the same resort feel of a rolling lush lawn. The tennis courts were visible from the front, but my mind quickly wandered to the rose garden in the backyard that I fell in love with. I had been looking forward to lunch with Grace since she called. She reminded me of home, a much wealthier version but one that I could relate to.

"Great." I heard him growl, and it was then I noticed him frowning at a black SUV with Range Rover printed on the back.

"My brother." He explained when he noticed my confusion.

"Oh." I don't think we had ever discussed his family.

"How many siblings do you have?" He shrugged his shoulders and finished the rest of his scotch.

"Two. One brother and one sister. Mia, my sister, is away at college, and Elliot well we have yet to figure out what exactly he does."

"I can't wait to meet him." The car rolled to a stop, and Taylor opened my door. Brick after brick surfaced my path to the grand entrance of their home.

"I would hate to have to clean this."

"Me too. That's why my parents hire a staff of fifty to clean and attend to the home."

"They have fifty people working here?" He glanced back in amusement, and I reigned back my naivety and shock. Looking at the size of the home again, I realized how that might be the preferable option.

He waited and knocked. The formal gesture shocking considering it was his parent's home. I didn't even knock to enter Angela's home nor did any of my friends when they came to ours. That is the way of a small town, I guess.

Grace opened the door in an intense orchid colored maxi dress. It had a polished tie waist and a subtle high low hem. The v-neck perfectly fitted with a crossover front. There wasn't a hair out of place or a flaw in her appearance; she was simply a breathtaking woman. And she was very excited to see her son, her exuberance unhidden as she pulled him into a warm embrace. Christian remained rigid. His only response was a slight movement of his hands to her back before returning to his side.

"You didn't have to knock Christian. This is your home, too." She admonished before turning towards me and pulling me into the same embrace. During the wedding, we had been escorted straight into the backyard so I had yet to see the home itself.

I had never seen a more beautifully decorated home than when my feet hit the stained checkered wood floor. It grounded the home, as the walls that extended from the floor were a warm white. A large chandelier with ornate gold fixings hung from the ceiling in the middle of the entryway. Arches on both sides led to a living room while the other led to the kitchen. A beautiful staircase with the same tone on tone stains of the checkered floor wrapped up and around to an undoubtedly loft space above us.

"Oh, this is beautiful."

"This is my current change of décor. We just renovated last year."

"It's amazing!"

"Thank you. I am going to run and see if my husband will be joining us for lunch. Christian, why don't you take Ana into the living room and introduce her to your brother." We turned right into what I assumed was the living room, but Christian led me through another archway where we entered yet another room. I then saw who I believed to be Elliot sitting on the couch watching T.V.

"What room was that?" I asked pointing to the one we had just left.

"The formal living room."

"Oh." Elliot stood at the sound of our voices. His eyes raked over me before Christian blocked my view of him. Regardless, he was easy to envision. He looked different than Christian. He had blonde hair, a much more golden shade than Adam's. His eyes were a chocolate brown that only seemed darker with the tan tone of his skin. He was extremely handsome as Christian was but in a different way, softer. His presence wasn't as domineering.

"Whatsup brother?" His voice didn't contain the same deep quality as Christian's. either.

"Were you invited for lunch too?" Christian asked, his tone laced with the same discontent he embraced his mother with. It was so distant for siblings.

"I'm never invited here." He laughed before moving around Christian.

"I'm Ana." I interrupted and extended my hand. He had a boyish smile, one that I'm sure worked well with women. It was infectious.

"Elliot." He studied me with ease as though it were a natural extension of his personality. His eyes stopped at my wedding ring.

"Elliot, have some manners." Christian growled at him, and his forehead creased in contempt.

"Such a pity you're spoken for." Elliot muttered with a playful tone. "And not by your husband."

"Elliot!" Christian's face grimaced menacingly.

"By god." Elliot pointed to the cross that hung from my neck. "By god, Christian. Jesus, who did you think I was talking about."

"Enough, both of you." Grace's voice had taken the tone of a mother, one amused yet disapproving.

"Christian, your father wants to see you. Ana, we can head out onto the patio while lunch is being prepared."

Christian left after shooting Elliot a narrowed glare, and I followed Grace out to the patio. She spoke proudly of her home, showing me family pictures that decorated the walls. Every once and a while though, I noticed a sadness wash over her as she recounted memories of her children. It was a beautiful sunny day in Seattle that was a warm welcome after the past two days of gloomy rainy weather. The patio was as I remembered. A large outdoor living room was set to the side of the pool and hot tub. There was a magnificently crafted wooden gazebo with exposed beams, a brick fireplace, and a TV set above. A long vintage wooden table was positioned with chairs. The table was set with white china and napkins displaying a light pink floral pattern.

"So, how are you adjusting to the city my dear?" Grace asked as I took the seat across from her.

"I'm getting settled. I'm a little overwhelmed with how many things there are to do ...the museums and galleries."

"Yes, Seattle is quite stimulating. You have time to explore and if you ever need a friend to admire the arts with, I'd be happy to join." Growing up with my grandmother, I have always felt more comfortable with older women than those my age. Angela, I loved like a sister but we grew up together. We had no one else but each other. Making friends in the city, well making friends in general was new. At the very basic core, all of our friends through our small town were obligatory.

"That would be great."

Christian and his father approached looking both irritated and at the tail end of an argument.

"Dad, this is Ana. Ana, this is my father Carrick Grey." I stood and shook his offered hand but even I knew he immediately didn't like me. The scowl on his face that he quickly disguised with indifference revealed his sentiments.

"It's nice to meet you. " He conjured a quick smile, one that didn't meet his eyes genuinely, and Grace quickly changed the subject. I've never been so forwardly disliked before in such an odd, inexplicable manner. As his eyes betrayed his true feelings, he acted just seconds later genuinely curious about my life. Grace and I conversed mostly as Christian worked on his phone, and I caught Carrick staring several times at us. It wasn't so much uncomfortable but confusing.

We were served a lunch of grilled chicken, cucumber salad, and quinoa. It was light but filling. We discussed the garden and plotted the initial layout, deciding to begin the project next week.

"Mom, you know you're going to have to get dirty to attend to this garden?"

Grace narrowed her eyes at Christian but also appeared surprised at his playful mood.

"Yes Christian, I know. These hands were made for more than planning parties and greeting socialites."

I related even more to her in that moment.

"See, if my mother can up and decide to want to garden again, you can certainly decide you want to go back to school."

"What's wrong with school?" She asked shocked that anyone would find problem with it.

"Well, it's not the most supported idea." I added, slightly embarrassed by the divulgence.

"I think it's a great idea."

"Me too." Christian chimed in. "I can introduce you to some of the deans at the colleges you're looking at. I donate to the majority of them."

"Well, I won't be attending until next year so I have some time but thank you both." Carrick stood and left without saying good-bye.

"Are you ready to leave?" Christian asked, and I nodded.

"I just have to use the bathroom first."

"I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

"Did Elliot leave?" Grace asked as she stood with us.

"Yes. I'm not sure where he went." Christian replied with a worried tone that matched Grace's expression.

"He was arguing with some girl on his phone earlier today."

"I'm taking care of it." Even with the distance I sensed earlier, they all seemed to be in denial about the pronounced strength of their love.

As I left the bathroom, I stilled as I heard my name. Carrick and Grace were in an office discussing me so my body grew rigid. I knew I should leave, but my curiosity killed the cat and then beat it to death as I inched closer.

"Carrick, be reasonable." Grace shot at him in obvious frustration.

"No. Our son should be searching for a wife not spending time with someone else's." I turned and promptly left. Christian waited in the kitchen and then escorted us both out. Despite my attempts to linger to say good-bye, he continued with his hand at the small of my back until we stepped outside of the door. It was a protective gesture, but I just wasn't sure why he felt so watchful in there.

During the ride back to Escala, my mind focused on Carrick's comment. It was a fair statement. Christian should find someone, and I attempted to ignore the small pang of jealousy I felt imagining it.

"You're a world away." He broke our comfortable silence and now I felt guilty for my thoughts.

_You should feel guilty. _

"Not as far as you think." I replied with a smile. I contemplated telling him about his father, but it truly was an innocent comment that most likely would produce more tension between them both.

We pulled into the parking garage of Escala, and Christian helped me out of the vehicle as Taylor opened his door.

"Thank you for coming today." I told him as we stood in the elevator.

"I had a good day." He spoke with a hint of surprise.

"Good." The elevator doors opened to my private entry way, and I turned to hug him. My head only reaching his chest, I felt small but protected. He embraced me with more ease than prior times, but his heart raced. We were entwined only for a couple of seconds, but in those seconds I felt him, the rapid beat beneath my cheek and the touch of his chin to my hair. It reminded me of his hand clinging to mine at church only this time it felt like his soul….or really mine to his.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He spoke after me as I unlocked my door. I turned, smiled, and offered a quick wave.

I escaped inside, my heart racing at a frenzied speed, and my chest madly struggled to encase them when the phone rang.

"Hello." I spoke breathlessly.

"Hey." Adam's voice spoke with a foreign feel as I sunk into one of the bar stools.

"Hi." I replied, my brain a minefield of too many explosions for one day.

"How was church? Did Christian enjoy it?"

"Yeah, he did."

"That's good. How was lunch at his parents?"

"That was good too. We discussed the garden." Heart still racing, I rested my head on my forearm on our kitchen island.

"Good."

"Are you okay?" I felt the need to get this argument over with, or I just required him to be upset with me.

"No. Can we please discuss this school issue?"

"Ana."

"No, Adam. It's what I want. You have a year to get used to the idea." I snapped and he hung up on me. For the first time in our entire marriage, he hung up on me. I didn't blame him. It felt _deserved._


	7. Chapter 6

_Thank you, Thank you everyone for your wonderful and humbling responses! I'm sorry for not being able to respond to the most recent reviews! I'll work my best to respond to these. Enjoy this chapter. _

**Chapter 6**

Kicking off my comforter, my fingers dug into the pillow. The thin muscles pulled taut as I hurled it across the room. Exhaustion was having its way with me.

"Great." I sighed in frustration as I moved my legs off the bed and marched over towards it before throwing the object of my scorn back onto the bed. It didn't deserve that. I was just so tired. I felt guilty and angry, two emotions not equipped for sleep.

"We're friends." I reassured myself as I took off my nightgown and pulled a sports bra on.

"And Adam" Just the thought of him hanging up on me irritated me more. My resentment escalated each time I flashed to our conversation. My mind even began to travel back to memories from dating in high school finding more questionable behavior that I felt needed to be rehashed.

I had baked enough cookies to feed a small village, cleaned….twice, and now running seemed to be my best option if only to work off the ten cookies I inhaled earlier in a frenzied haze. I also refused to think about the cookie dough I kept stealing. Larceny, especially of this degree, was dangerous so I planned to punish myself on the treadmill. My scalp stung as I pulled my hair tightly back into a ponytail before throwing on my running shoes.

As I rode the elevator down to the gym, I untangled my earphones. It required my full attention, which freed my mind if only for a minute at a time. After untwisting a loop, my self-deprecating thoughts started their fury of whispers until I had to focus on the next entanglement, my proverbial life really.

The gym was empty which wasn't surprising for 2am. I rounded the glass encasement that held the resistance pool and I stopped abruptly.

_Come on! Really. _My shoulders slumped and I had to laugh tiredly at my luck.

Christian swam at a furious pace, but it looked natural. Each stroke was fluid and with purpose. Each breath he surfaced for sought him. Even in a pool of water, he dominated. Granted, he filled the pool with his height. I had never seen shoulders so broad, his back an expanse of rippling muscles and smooth skin. Christian spoke with his body, an uninhibited language for some reason I was fluent in. It's why I knew he swam for the same reason I ran, which was to escape.

I tore my eyes from him and found a treadmill hidden from his view and hopefully his exit. He is partly one of the reasons I'm here. More so, I was trying to distract myself enough so I didn't cave and call Adam. Obviously, confrontation between us didn't fare well for my sleep schedule. Tim McGraw's Real Good Man roared through my earphones, and my feet dug into a reasonable pace before I increased the incline to level 10. I needed the physical burn to paralyze me emotionally. It never did, but I had faith it might, just this once.

My thighs scorched as I continued to climb the treadmill easing a tiny piece of my guilt and the majority of my resentment that ten cookies couldn't touch. I could feel my heart in my chest, a deep resounding beat that matched the racing speed of Christian's last night.

_Stop. _

I tried. Like the belt that continually looped beneath my feet, I just kept replaying the sensations. The fabric of his white button up was a thin barrier for the warmth caressing my cheek as my ears feasted on the sound of his excitement or nervousness. It seemed my head felt the need to betray my desire to free my mind and instead, it cluttered it now. The once innocent workout of Christian had turned into something much more sensual than it needed to be.

_Adam. _

I forced myself to focus on our situation again. My mind willingly obeyed and ran with the demand. My legs propelled me forward pushing harder and faster. My chest began to feel the burn of extreme exertion. My irritation expanded to anger like a snowball rolling down the mountain of my memories. It gathered more snow with flashbacks I now found questionable. We had already resolved and navigated the majority of the battled terrain, but the feelings hit me like an avalanche threatening to bury me six feet under. Our communication had always been our saving grace, and I finally began to taste the consequences when we both avoided it due to pride. I knew right then I'd cave. Allowing pride to hinder my marriage was just not in my nature. I stopped the treadmill and unhooked my earphones before calling Adam. It went to his voicemail but even the sound of his voice dissipated the rest of my tension.

Beyond thankful that the pool was empty as I passed it, I almost collapsed into the elevator. My legs trembled, and I successfully exhausted every cell of my body. All I wanted was a shower and sleep…I would crawl if I had to.

I stripped on the way to the bathroom. My clothes were drenched in the sweat of tension, anger, and confusion I managed to run out. I had never spent so much time alone before because there was always someone living with me. I always cared for someone else, my focus always split between myself and other people. The divide wasn't even. I'm not sure if it had ever been or if it ever will be. One thing I know about myself is that I feel the need impulsively to nurture someone else's spirit, but in so doing I also feed my soul. It's not something I'd ever want to change about myself.

The shower tired me further. The warmth and the steam clothed my body in a new skin and soothed my aching muscles. I left my hair wrapped in a towel as I lay back in bed. My head fell heavy onto the pillow, and finally I was free to fall asleep. The haze I searched for all night and early morning found me. A dreamy relief of calm flooded my senses allowing them all to shut down completely.

An incessant noise later invaded my dreams. The soil shook beneath my knees as I pulled weeds from the Ranunculus flowers that I planted. Sounding like soft thunder, I slowly opened my eyes, and the room began to form at a sluggish pace. Still dark, I opened them further seeing my phone screen lit and shaking. I then quickly closed them and allowed routine to take over as I snaked my arm out and swiped to answer.

"Hello."

"Ana." Adam's voice was irritated.

"Adam." Still exhausted, my voice was just above a whisper.

"Sorry for waking you. I just now got in to call you."

"It's okay. Why did you hang up on me earlier?" Ounce by ounce, my drowsiness turned into awareness of how this conversation was most likely heading. It was undoubtedly going to require my full attention, but my body had yet to receive this message as the motion of opening my eyes tired me more.

"I hung up on you because you weren't listening to me."

"I wasn't listening to you?" I asked in disbelief as I sat upright.

"No, you weren't. In fact, the way you approached this was ridiculous." The anger I worked hard to rid returned with a vengeance, tightening my chest and jaw.

"Because I want to go back to school?"

"No Ana…" He shouted forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear. My heart skipped a beat with his reaction. "Because we're about to try for a baby, and _you _just up and changed plans we've had for six years. It's like you have completely forgotten the numerous conversations we had discussing this."

"I haven't!" I protested, tears forming and my voice began to shake. We had never argued like this before, and I obviously wasn't handling it well. Confrontation shook me. I could always defend my virtues and myself, but it didn't mean I enjoyed it. The energy of harsh words was always intimidating.

"Really? Because if you remembered the way you flippantly told me about this big change of yours, you would see how your approach was offensive." I could hear the anger, a tone he used minimally in our relationship. In fact, this might be the second time. The first time was in college when I ended things between us.

"How would you like it if I called you and said I am going to convert to Buddhism and raise our child that way."

"That is completely different!"

"No, it's not. I might have changed soaps, but you changed an entire belief. You have always…._always _felt as strongly as I have about you staying home. You never wanted to send our child to daycare, and you knew exactly how I felt about the situation too." I pulled the comforter up towards my chest, clinging to it for comfort. Falling back against the headboard, it seemed to have cleared the clouded haze of excitement regarding school. I could hear his restraint; the harsh breaths echoed through the phone, and finally a large sigh escaped him. All of my anger dissipated with his. Neither of us lasted long in such a heated discussion, but my high of resentment plummeted to a new low of guilt.

"Ana, I'm not upset that you want to go back to school. I'll support you in almost anything that makes you happy, and eventually I'll find a way to support this. I'm just upset with the way you handled the entire situation. This is a huge change. This is one that you know what my feelings are so the way you informed me made it seem like you didn't care about them at all. There was a better way to approach it, one where you should have discussed this with me in person and not over the phone when we are 7,000 miles away from each other."

Honestly, within my excitement I forgot how he felt. I shook my head at the thought, tears stinging my heart as they fell from my cheeks to the sheets that I shared with my husband. This was a man that my memories have consisted of for ten years, and I hurt him.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, devastated at the way I made him feel. He exhaled, releasing more tension, and I could envision him so clearly. He would cock his head a little, and his bottom lip would rise with a frustrated expression.

"I'm sorry for yelling and hanging up on you. I'll adjust."

_Adjust? _

Should he really have to adjust? In any relationship, what issues should one adjust to? Would I adjust if he demanded I stay home?

_I guess what I'm afraid of is when does a sacrifice become regret? Does it depend on the reason for said sacrifice? Or does it depend on the length of time one sacrifices?_

_Or is it simply the act of sacrificing in general?_

Compromise always seemed the right thing to do, but I couldn't help but feel that too much of it and you're both suddenly and unintentionally taking two different paths.

"Okay."

"Ana, it's fine now babe." He reassured me, and it made me feel worse. I covered my eyes with my hand and pursed my lips hard trying not to cry. I hated hurting anyone, but harming Adam created a new level of ache throughout my chest.

"We're fine. We'll make it work, okay? Let's just discuss it in more detail when I'm home."

"Okay." I could have burst into tears, but I held my breath just waiting to be free of his voice. It made the ache almost unbearable. "I'm really tired."

"Okay, me too. I love you Ana." My lip quivered, and my vision blurred with tears.

"I love you." He waited for me to hang up but I hoped he would. So many times, I'd play the game of staying on the line, but now I was exhausted and a sliver close to breaking.

I finally broke, and the dam collapsed once I hung up. My tears stained his pillow as I buried my face into the gold fabric. Everything felt foreign. God, even I felt foreign. Ten years of memories, and already when I viewed myself, I looked so different. In the city, I have been forced to consider things I never imagined that I would face. I cried for everything I was and for the loss of what I once was…for the ease of which Adam and I had once navigated our relationship. There were too many tears to cover it all and in the midst of it, I prayed for it all back.

It was noon before I woke. This was the latest I had slept in ever. Mawmaw would never let me sleep in past 8, and I usually woke before 7:30. I thought of her every day, almost every object related to her. This morning it hurt. I imagined her not being able to comprehend where I failed her. Crawling out of bed, my muscles ached horribly and I ran a bath. The water enveloped my skin in superficial warmth, but it relaxed my muscles. I could have fallen asleep again, but I had to get ready to photograph Christian. Had I told Adam? I honestly couldn't remember. Adam had texted that he loved me earlier. The words had released more weight than I realized I still held. I thought I cried the weight of tears away last night.

I started coffee as I took some Tylenol and headed back into my closet. I needed something comfortable. The scrape of the hangers against the rods pierced my already sensitive aching head, but I finally found what I wanted to wear. I pulled an ivory embroidered swing dress that just touched the tops of me knees and a lightweight cardigan. My espadrilles had a short heel that made them more comfort than show. I sat in front of our floor length mirror and worked on my hair. Having it down already drove me crazy so I threw it up into a bun. Two hair ties later and some hairspray, I had mastered a bun balanced of wispy and fixed strands. I applied mascara to brighten my eyes as crying had left them a tinge bit swollen. After my first cup of coffee on the balcony, my headache finally subsided. The breeze touched my face with refreshing whispers, breathing life back into me. I packed everything the night before for Christian's small photo shoot taking advantage of my usual neurotic coping mechanisms. As I relaxed on the balcony, the sounds had become routine, almost like the echoes of home. They didn't replace Montesano, but they almost held the same feeling. I was beginning to love two places at once.

I almost fell asleep on the balcony so I headed back inside needing to be productive after allowing the entire morning to escape. I figured I'd finally tackle the remaining boxes. The idea scared me before because it felt too permanent, but that had changed. I wasn't quite sure at what point this happened. Not really caring to know, I decided to roll up my cardigan sleeves and start with the first box that had framed memories. I sat slowly as I pulled out our wedding photo. It was Adam, Mawmaw, and I in our church. I wore my mothers wedding dress. The dress had these beautiful three quarter length sleeves with lace embroidery and a petaled hem. Mawmaw gave the dress some shape by cinching my waist with a blush colored satin ribbon. I set that picture down to see the one of our first kiss as husband and wife beneath it. We were smiling as our lips touched, and all of it…the stress and confusion…it all just disappeared.

_Thank you. _I thought as I looked up and smiled. In that moment God's gentle guiding hands reminded me of how blessed I was and washed me with the same overwhelming feeling of love I felt on that day.

Once done, I went into the kitchen and helped myself to more cookies sans emotional tornado. They were a perfect pick me up after finally unpacking our last box. I scanned the kitchen making sure I had everything including my camera bag, phone, and keys. In the past ten minutes, I grew giddy excited. I'm not quite sure why, but I assumed it was the retreat from our apartment to somewhere other than the gym. Taylor waited at the elevator for me as I closed my front door.

"Hi Taylor. Here, I made cookies and if I eat anymore, I'll need to visit some clothing stores tomorrow." He quietly chuckled as he held his hand up. I moved in next to him and released a dramatic disappointed sigh.

"Oh fine." He muttered, and took a cookie.

"One for the road?" I asked as the doors opened.

"I'll take the whole plate...to the kitchen for you." He finally finished, and I glared playfully at him. "He's in his office. It's around that corner and the second door on your left. You can go in." I followed the direction of his pointed finger after thanking him.

I walked through the living room, adjusting the straps of my camera bag when I reached the door of his office. Soft moans emanated from the room, and I saw in the mirror across from me the reflection of Christian standing and a woman's head moving against his lap.

_Oh my God._

Christian stood naked, his chest rising and falling with deep shudders. His face was painted in pleasure as his jaw clenched tight before releasing a deep guttural groan. She stroked him with one hand while he drove himself into her mouth. I should've left. I should've been upset that he was so careless with his conquests, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. Their movements grew raw and rough as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, and his hips moved towards her faster and harder at an electric speed. My heart pounded in my chest as I felt an overwhelming flood of heat run through me. I had never felt something that intense.

"Stand up Chelsea." Christian commanded using a deep husky tone.

He then hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her onto the desk before lowering himself on her. He never made eye contact with her once, an act so intimate to me but not to him; their dynamic was animalistic. His fingers dug into her thighs while her hand now clenched his hair. Her other hand glided across her chest landing on her nipples which she began to vigorously pinch. It was never like this with Adam, a frenzy of desire so fierce that you became uninhibited. Within seconds, he flipped her and bent her over the desk, her cheek pressed against the wood. The way he drove his hips into hers was hypnotic...so rapid and fluid as his buttock muscles tensed and released with every thrust. He moved to cover her, his back muscles rippling beneath his skin, and he snaked his hand around her thigh evoking a shaky moan. Continuing to burrow deeper inside her, she then cried out in a deafening, rasping groan. It was in that moment that he turned towards the mirror and met my eyes with no reaction at all. I froze, paralyzed by his grays, but he just kept driving into her without regard to my presence. I couldn't handle it. Even though he was having sex with someone else, it felt too intimate between us.

I scrambled, lacking grace and tact as I hurried towards the elevator. The sound of her having an orgasm did me in. When the elevator doors closed, I silently panicked needing to steady myself against the metal railing. Of course, it took longer than usual to unlock my door, and I fell against it as soon as it shut. My legs shook as I lowered myself to the floor. I pressed my hands to the cool tiles and left them there as the room felt too warm. I don't know how long I sat there staring at the floor with my chest still heaving. My head felt like a minefield of exploding thoughts and rapid fire.

"Ana." Christian bellowed as he knocked, and I shifted from the door. Still blushing and slightly sweaty from what I witnessed and the quick trip back down here, I ran into the bathroom. I splashed cold water over my face. The sensation brought a crisp relief to the warmth of embarrassment flooding me. I didn't want to face him, not yet anyways.

"I know you're in there. We need to talk." Deep breaths and my lungs deflated with a sharp hiss of escaping air. Visions of Christian and Chelsea kept dominating my head so I focused harder on the air filling my lungs and the air leaving them. Six deep breaths and I found myself climbing off the floor, meeting my reflection with a grimace. I washed my hands and smoothed my hair; my cheeks still a deep rosy hue that made the blue of my eyes brighter. We would have to discuss what I saw, so that we could measure the damage it might have caused on our friendship. I wasn't even sure I could photograph him now or stare at him through a lens after what I saw. My cheeks flamed brighter and I leaned my head down, taking a puddle of cool water in my hands and splashed it against my face again. Finally...some sense of normalcy returned. My hands trembled slightly as I reached to open the door. He had a crisp white linen button up tucked into gray slacks with a black belt showing off his lean waist. My eyes scanned down his suit, and although I wanted to avert them, I was captivated. The more I looked at his waist, the more rapid images moved through my head in a distracting succession. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I motioned him in. I had no idea how he dressed so fast and made his way down. There was not one hair out of place or one hint of what he just did.

"I'm so sorry for walking in on that." I stumbled out as I sat down at the kitchen island trying to remember the last time I had been this embarrassed. Never.

"No, I should be apologizing." If he was nervous, I couldn't tell. "Time just got away from me."

I raised my hand at him. "You don't have to explain."

"I really think I should."

"Um. I think we should just forget about it." Or at least not talk about it because the way he looked at me seemed so different now. The stormy color of his gray eyes literally appeared electrifying in a way I had never felt before. I started to look everywhere but him until my eyes settled on the nervous movements of my fingers. I heard him sigh.

"Do you still want to photograph me?"

_Yes and No. _

Christian was intending to use these photographs to promote his charity, The Amelia Foundation. After researching it last night, I learned that this foundation funded low cost medical clinics, offering more affordable healthcare for those that couldn't obtain health insurance. The foundation was named after Amelia Grant who died of a stroke from an undiagnosed early medical condition. She failed to seek timely healthcare because her family couldn't afford it even after enduring days of symptoms. It was a heart-wrenching story. She was such a beautiful young woman with an infectious smile and large blue eyes, undoubtedly leaving many loved ones behind.

"Ana?" Christian's voice broke the vision of Amelia, and I nodded.

"Can I get that verbally?" He joked, and we both laughed. The tension dissipated slowly, and our friendship began to reignite into familiar territory.

"Yes." I smiled before gathering my bag again. We fell into an easy conversation as we traveled back up to his apartment. We kept our chatter neutral as I asked about some of the paintings that I noticed gracing the foyer of his home.

"Is she still up there?" I asked nervous that I might have to face her as well. She was beautiful with a short edgy blonde cut, full curves, manicured long nails, and toned legs. Her makeup was expertly applied, and her dark shadow enhanced her green eyes. There truly was nothing for her to be embarrassed about; she belonged on a magazine cover. It didn't change the fact though that I had still seen her naked.

"No. They never stay long."

I forced myself not to linger on the comment. Having only been with one person, I couldn't imagine sex as casually as he made it sound.

"Okay, where do you want me?" He asked standing in the expanse of his living room but filling it completely with his presence. The floor to ceiling windows that wrapped his apartment failed to diminish him at all.

"At your desk." I said quietly. I had planned it all. Lifestyle photography, I thrived in it, and I wanted to photograph him in his element. The Amelia Foundation website would appear in the background on his computer screen with his desk neatly scattered with the foundations' notes and goals. I would then just photograph him working naturally and hopefully get him to smile genuinely, maybe even laugh. We seemed to study each other before he finally walked into his office, and I followed. I explained what I wanted, and he seemed pleased with the suggestion.

"I love this idea!"

"Well don't act so shocked." Again, he laughed as he sat at his desk, and I unpacked my camera.

"Ana, I'm not shocked at your brilliance. It's just wonderful to see you at work." I felt a swell of pride that I tried to hide, but he read me like a book.

"You don't have to be so humble all the time. It's kind of irritating." My jaw dropped, and he laughed. No one had ever told me that before, it was somewhat refreshing…really refreshing actually.

"Don't worry about my feelings, geeze." I joked as he moved to his desk. I couldn't stare at the desk turned wooden bed earlier without envisioning Christian and naked body parts sprawled on the gleaming finish…

_Ew, ew, ew, ew. _

A not so hygienic thought entered my head.

"It's been disinfected." He muttered quietly as he worked to clutter his insanely organized workspace with Amelia Foundation documents. What am I doing here? My current state of mind wasn't as prepared as it should be considering the floorshow I just witnessed. Why his office? Why not a bedroom? It was such an extreme compared to Adam and me.

"Sorry." I answered as he continued at his desk.

"Don't be." He replied, and I adjusted my camera settings along with as much of the lighting that I had control over. I felt amateur compared to the photographers I could only imagine he's worked with. I didn't have a crew, but I had a vision and a connection with Christian that I knew was more than most people received from him. Finally, everything was deliberately placed, the website lit his computer screen, and the papers were perfectly scattered.

"Feel free to work or pretend to."

He smiled slightly as he held a beautifully engraved gold pen bearing the foundation's name that he used to write his notes. I could study him now without fear of seeming inappropriate or odd. He began to legitimately work and creases formed at his forehead as he read through the information. He pursed his lips, and my finger pressed away before his one movement of gripping the desk plunged me into an hour old memory.

The vision of his hips gliding back and forth with such commanding grace once again began to dominate my thoughts.

_Oh Lord, I just used grace in a sentence describing sex. I am going to hell. _

Nervously, I laughed. I had no other recourse. My breathing grew shallow, and my heart was affected too. If I didn't laugh, I was afraid he might catch a glimpse of my inappropriate reaction. Trying to regain composure, I changed my position in the room. It would have helped if he hadn't taken that moment to undo two of his shirt buttons slightly exposing tan skin, the same tan skin he completely exposed earlier. I had seen him naked. Everything. Everywhere.

_Seriously, Ana? Flipping stop it._

My face felt flushed from embarrassment. My hands trembled as I held the camera, and heat flooded me in places with such extreme response that I couldn't decide if this was normal.

"Want to hear why I started the Amelia Foundation?" He looked completely unaffected, but he worked hard for it. His chest faintly shook with the control he used to slow his breathing. Thank God, because I started to think I was crazy for feeling unhinged about what happened, and I wasn't even in the action. I needed to leave though. I needed Adam. This newfound hunger was ravaging my body and mind.

"Yes." I replied without thought, but I kept my face covered with the camera.

"My father inspired this actually. Amelia Grant worked for his family. So technically, she inspired this. My father made all of us volunteer as soon as we were of age." I pressed my finger at the reverent expression he wore. That was _his _picture.

His face softened, the hard lines of his jaw relaxed with every word he spoke.

"At first I hated it. I was spoiled and ungrateful." I lowered the camera and myself into the chair across from him. He even seemed surprised at his confession.

"It's alright." I reassured him. "I won't judge."

"I couldn't relate to any of them or their lives. I know that sounds horrible."

"No." I shook my head. "It sounds honest considering what you grew up with."

He raised his eyebrows as if what I stated was obvious.

"Honestly I got my ass reamed by an older nurse that worked there, Linda." He was lost in his words and the memories. What a beautiful sight it was. His hands framed his head as he animatedly described Linda's short curly hair. He reclined back into his chair and unwound even more.

"She broke me in a week, which I lasted longer than most I guess. I went every day after school for as long as my schedule allowed, but my swim meets took a lot of my time."

"I bet you dominated your swim meets. You are an amazing swimmer." His brows furrowed, and I caught his confusion the same time I silently berated myself.

"How do you know?"

"I saw you swimming the other night or early morning I guess." I finally confessed, and his lips pursed in amusement.

"What were you doing there? It was 2:00 in the morning."

"Running." I shrugged. He met my gaze and connected the dots that both of us were there for the same reason, to escape our thoughts for just a little while. It strengthened the thread we shared.

"Why?" How to answer that? Because I was irate at my husband and I felt guilty and confused about you.

"I needed it."

"Vague answer." He commented as he sat forward.

"Why were you there?"

"Reflecting on my relationships." He answered honestly.

"Chelsea?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. I don't even know where the thought came from.

"Chelsea is just what you saw." Now I felt bad for her. His detached tone as he spoke of what they just did was painful to witness because I saw the way she looked at him.

"She can be more for you."

"No. None of them are…"

_You. _His eyes shifted to me, and I almost wanted to believe he was about to say this but why would he? He had everything to offer a woman and obviously an army of attractive women pursuing him. It was ridiculous to even let the thought enter my mind.

"My type." He finished, and I nodded at the exact answer I expected, but for some reason I didn't know if it was the one I wanted to hear. Grabbing my camera, he pushed his office chair away from the desk.

"Don't look at those yet!"

"I don't care to look at myself Ana, just you. Smile." I raised my hand to block my face.

"Oh please no." I pleaded.

"One picture."

"One picture and you'll give me my camera back."

"Yes." I studied him, but he hid deception well. I searched his eyes, which he masked with amusement, and his lips were slightly curved upward.

"Should I get this in writing?" His lips parted, showing an enigmatic smile that I wish I could photograph. He didn't wear it often enough.

"You speak my language."

"Fluently." I joked, and then grinned. His finger pressed down and before I knew it, he became button happy as he moved further back.

_Click. Click. Click._

"Okay, no more." I stood to round his desk, and he matched my movement.

"Christian."

"Ana." I struggled not to laugh or smile as I extended my hand. He held out my camera, leaving a space that we both wondered who would clear first. It almost felt like a test as I crossed the room, his eyes an intent gaze as I walked towards him. I moved my hands to grasp my camera, and he quickly pulled it away, my body falling into an unsteady embrace as he caught me.

My forehead fell against his exposed chest, the contact of skin igniting more than it needed to. My chest tightened, my legs trembled, and I felt weightless like the butterflies in my stomach were invading my entire body in that moment. I caught his scent of a crisp bark and slight sweat, so masculine the flutters became overwhelming. My ears clung to the sounds of his shallow breathing as my heart beat frantically in my chest.

"I should go." I whispered, my breath hot against the fabric of his shirt. Pulling away shakily, I grabbed my camera and packed it quickly into my bag. An uncomfortable silence settled between us, and it wasn't my best moment as I hurried to the elevator.

"Ana. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Honestly, I just um…" I couldn't quite catch my breath as I tried to speak, and my chest shook because of it. What was there to say anyway? My life felt like a tiny ember compared to the flames he ignited in my body.

"It's okay Ana."

"No, it's not." I replied, my response barely above a whisper.

I practically dove into the elevator. I knew then as the doors closed and my heart ached as he left my view that we couldn't be alone together, not after what just happened.

_My skin still danced with his lingering sensations._


	8. Chapter 7

_Thank you again to all those that reviewed! To some of the guests that reviewed about Ana's lack of disgust with the office scene, feel free to PM me! I'd love to discuss this or any questions and concerns anyone has! Please feel free to review as honestly as you want. I know some authors have made it hard to do this without posting anonymously but I welcome all type of reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter but of course feel free to let me know if you didn't. Thank you all! _

Chapter 7

Mawmaw always said gaining clarity worked best alone.

"You sweet girl, let yourself figure it out. And if you need help, ask him." She pointed above and kissed my forehead.

"Too many cooks in the kitchen and your recipes start to look like everyone else's."

I smiled lovingly at the memory and pulled the floral rag quilt she sewed for my fifth birthday over my shoulders. It was ratty and the colors were faded, but it soothed me on both my worst and best days. The warmth sheltered me at my parent's funeral and caught my tears when Mawmaw passed away. It was so like her to offer comfort even after she was gone.

I picked at one of the loose threads as I watched the raindrops cascade down the balcony doors from our couch. The rivulets of water blurred the view, mirroring the confusion that plagued my mind. Playing on the television, Message In A Bottle was more background noise than anything. The past two days, I didn't intentionally avoid Christian, but I didn't make any efforts to see him either. I'm not quite sure why I would though after the other night. The sight of him with Chelsea was embarrassing and confusing in a way I had yet to understand, revealing a side to him I was not prepared to face. I was married and had no right to object, but I felt troubled by it nonetheless. A small pang of jealousy invaded my chest the more I thought about it. I hid myself in my apartment for two days to gain insight. I prayed every day sometimes twice both in the morning and at night. I have never exercised more in my life, and Mawmaw was right. Alone, I was able to find clarity.

Two days had confirmed the simplest of facts.

I loved my husband.

I loved my faith.

Adam would be home any minute, and I couldn't wait. The ceaseless bounce of my leg against the couch revealed my overwhelming excitement. I heard the turn of his key, and I flew off the couch before I rounded the corner of the entryway and watched him close the door.

Home. He was home. He was _my _home.

He wore jeans and a white v-neck with unfamiliar flat sneakers, but none of it mattered. I attacked him at the door, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

"God, I've missed you." He told me squeezing the breath right out of my chest.

"I've missed you." I studied his face, running my hands through his soft blonde strands and tracing my finger over his features. He felt the same and smelled like _my _Adam. I pressed a million small kisses to his face, to his eyes, and his nose. I was desperate to feel _his _skin and _his _scent. When I reached his neck, my kisses grew languid and my lips pressed harder and longer along his masculine column.

I could probably count on one hand the times that I have initiated sex, and I was never this forward when I did. Parting my lips, my tongue slid against his skin, and I felt him harden against me.

"Maybe I should leave more often." He hissed as he caught us both against the wall.

"What has gotten into you Anastasia Rose?" He questioned, and his eyes studied mine as he brushed stray whispers of hair from my face. He watched me as if I were a stranger.

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine." I reassured him, but he appeared skeptical so I distracted him with my tongue by slowly invading his mouth. He began to stir in his jeans. Desperate were my hands as I clawed at his shirt, and I could feel him holding back. He clutched my nightgown as if he were afraid of losing restraint with me. I hated in that moment that I worked towards the same frenzy I felt days ago as the vision of Christian flashed through my mind. Adams' kisses grew harder as he led us both back into the bedroom. My fingers frantically searched for the hem of his shirt as he laid me on the bed. He reached his arms over his head and pulled his shirt off. As I studied the hard ridges of his abdomen, I gripped his neck and jerked him to my lips. I was desperate for distraction, desperate for him.

His hands moved to my buttons, and I raised myself off the bed for my nightgown to easily come off. Sliding my panties down my legs, my fingers quivered as I worked at his jeans before shoving them down as far as they could go. Chest shaking, I took a deep breath and inhaled the familiar scent of Adam. He covered me with his body and pleasure raged through me at the sound of his shudder as he drove into me.

"Please." I begged for more, desperate to feel him move. Hot breath bathed my collarbone as his hips began their movement. With every thrust, a muffled cry escaped my lips as I buried my head into his chest.

After we claimed our release, he collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving with the deep rise and fall of panting breaths. Idly, his fingers ran through my hair untangling the mess we had just created.

"I love you." Adam whispered as he gently nibbled on my ear.

"I love you." I replied, kissing his cheek. He rolled over next to me as I sat up and wrapped the sheet around myself.

"You were different tonight." He spoke as he moved the strands stuck to my face by sweat.

"I missed you." I replied and he narrowed his eyes at me with disbelief, which I returned to make the mood playful.

"Okay, I'm not complaining." He shrugged as he held his hands up, and I laughed as he pulled me close.

"I'm going to go shower." I spoke into his chest.

"I'll probably be asleep when you get out."

"Okay. I love you." I kissed him and turned his light off as I walked towards the bathroom. After starting the shower, I sat on the toilet as the water warmed. How funny that I watched the same scene of cascading water down glass. Wrapping the sheet tighter around myself, I stilled and looked down. The fabric covered me entirely from my breasts down and for the first time, I realized I covered myself in front of Adam, and I had no idea what it meant.

I woke to hearing Adam in the shower and turned over to look at my phone. Pausing for a moment when I saw Christian's name on the screen, I took a deep breath before swiping across my screen.

_Hi. I wanted to let you know that the photographs are on the Foundation's website. I would like to thank you by taking you to lunch today, and I also have a check for you. What time works best? _

I curled on my side and stared at the message. It had only been two days since I had seen him, _all_ of him, and I still wasn't sure if it was enough.

_Yay! I'll have to check out the website. Please don't give me a check. I was happy to help. I have an important appointment today so will have to take a rain check about lunch. Thank you though and have a nice day at work!_

Rolling onto my back, I stared at the ceiling. All of it, the fertility clinic today, Christian, and Adam…all raged through my head like an F5 tornado so I compartmentalized. I put Christian away first, then Adam, and I focused all of my attention on our appointment. Finally, my heart pulsed wildly for a different reason, for the right reason. Adam came out of the bathroom in his suit, and I headed towards the kitchen.

"Morning." He said quickly as he kissed me and raced into the closet. "Sorry, I'm running late." He yelled as I started coffee for him and made him some toast knowing he would stop and binge on doughnuts if I didn't.

"I wish I could stay and spend some time with you this morning." He spoke in between mouthfuls of toast. Strawberry preserves smudged the corners of his mouth.

"It's fine. I'll see you in a couple hours." I cringed when I saw his confusion.

"Our appointment?" I hinted, and his shoulders slumped. "Adam."

"Ana, I'm sorry. I have a really important meeting. You're going to have to reschedule."

"I told you about this days ago."

"I'm sorry. It's not that big of a deal, we'll just pick another day to go." I followed him towards the door and paused at the entry way. Leaning against the wall, I struggled to respond.

"Ana, can we please not fight today. I just got home." He was halfway out of the door when he turned towards me.

"Fine. When can we reschedule?" I was too tired to fight and tired _of _fighting. It was emotionally draining, and I was nearing empty.

"I don't know. You'll have to call my assistant." I nodded and turned back to head into the kitchen.

"Ana." Spinning around, he stood there expectantly.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to say it?"

For a moment, I had no idea what he was referring to and then it hit me.

"Don't sting anyone today." It seemed to appease him.

"You'll still love me anyways." Escaping more like a question, it hurt painfully. Of course, I'd love him always. To not love him felt unfathomable.

I sat at the kitchen island for what seemed like hours, but I knew at most it had been ten minutes. Stirring my coffee, I honestly felt too drained to offer the distance between Adam and me any work at least for today. The ringtone resounded through our large apartment, the sound echoing and making me feel even more isolated.

"Hello." I answered, and a piece of home, a high pitched voice, shrieked through my phone. My best friend Angela and I grew up in Montesano together. Our parents were the closest of friends sharing a tapestry of forty years of memories together.

"Hey! Sorry I missed your call last night, Morgan had a tee-ball game." I smiled, remembering that beautiful blonde hair brown eyed little girl. Angela had gotten pregnant almost five years ago from a one-night stand in college. She moved back to Montesano to be closer to her friends and family, but I knew how much she hated having to come back. In this way, Angela and I couldn't be anymore different. Everyday she'd talk about how she couldn't wait to escape our small town. For Ang, Montesano represented lost dreams but for me, it was where mine existed.

"It's alright Ang. How'd she do?"

"Well…." She replied with a dramatic southern flair, and we both laughed. "She did pretty well for picking flowers in the field, and she refused to hit the ball."

"That sounds familiar." I joked as the memory of us both doing the same thing emerged. Our fathers would get so frustrated, but our mothers always said that the pictures were always better of us both sitting in the grass gathering petals. That's probably where my optimism came from.

"So, besides the occasional text we haven't really talked about the move. I've been a shitty friend, but I'm sans kid for two hours so hit me!"

"You're fine." I reassured her. "The move was fine."

"That's it?" She scoffed, and I sat silent. "Ana, what's going on? You sound different."

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Adam and I are just different. We're arguing more, and he kind of flipped out when I told him I was going back to school. We also had an appointment with a fertility specialist today that he forgot about."

"Ana." Ang started with a foreboding tone that lacked any ounce of surprise. "I wondered when this would happen."

"What?" I sat up straighter, confused by what she just said.

"When the pedestal you both placed each other on would break."

"Ang…He's my husband."

"I know, and I believe you're changing…I just think you're now seeing Adam and all his flaws. They've always existed. It's just you've kind of been blind to them. I mean we all knew him before you. Jesus Ana, he was the starting quarterback of the football team and taking them to state. He changed _for _you."

"No, he didn't." My tone was becoming defensive.

"I'm not saying he doesn't love you. My god, I've never seen a man love a woman more, but he loves the girl he met when you were a freshman in high school. You're not supposed to be that same girl."

"Why haven't you told me this before?"

"Well one, I was in high school with you. I thought it was just as great as everyone else. Two, no matter what Adam did then, it was gold including dating you. But you are also still in love with the guy that told you _anything_ and _everything_ you wanted to hear to make you happy. So you both are being a little selfish right now…it's about time." I sat silent trying desperately to deny what she was saying. It was a lot to take in, almost too much for one conversation and for the fact that I had already dealt with a disagreement that morning.

Angela sighed as if she regretted being so brutally honest.

"Ana, it's going to take time for you both to adjust."

"Yeah, I know." There was that word again, adjust.

"Sorry for bringing down the conversation." I exhaustedly laughed.

"It's fine. I think I needed to hear that." We finished the conversation after discussing her planning a visit and all things Morgan. After I hung up, I scanned our apartment. It was spotless, laundry was done, and I sat there with _everything _and _nothing _to do. There were so many options and places to visit; all only served the purpose of curing my boredom. I needed to do something of value, or I was going to go insane. Angela's words filled the silence in my head. Our high school memories seemed so long ago, that girl foreign now. I missed her, the simplicity of her feelings and world. I guess these changes can be attributed to becoming an adult.

Yes, Adam was the starting quarterback. He threw beautifully and commanded the field with such power that you couldn't help but be captivated by him even in a bad game. In fact, my fondest memory happened after one of his worst games. Everyone loved him, but so quickly they turned on him. I never understood it.

"This sucks." Adam gritted with clenched fists. We lay in the back of his Ford pick-up in the wooded area outside his house. Mawmaw had only recently allowed us to car-date. Granted, attending the team party at his house wasn't my idea of a date, but it didn't matter because I was happy where he was. I pulled at the sleeves of my white shirt and covered my hands before curling into him. It was cool that night, and his football jersey neglected to keep me warm. Adam's arm stretched behind him and pulled out the blanket he kept in his truck box. Covering us, I snuggled into his chest deeper, uncaring that he still wore his uniform or that it had the distinct smell of sweat and dirt.

"I'm sorry babe." I spoke softly and felt his fingers begin to lace through my hair. The fragrant earthy scent of the bonfire finally covered us. I watched the shadows of his teammates and our friends move across the yard as they filled their lawn chairs and cups. Toby Keith's As Good As I Once Was played from one of the other cars next to us.

"They'll come around. Just gotta do better next time." Adam finally replied with more determination than I would've had in his position.

"Well, it's not very Christian of them, and I know which ones go to church." Adam laughed making my head bounce on his chest causing me to join. I was so happy to see him smile.

"No, it's not." He chuckled again as he kissed the top of my head.

"You should put it on the prayer card Sunday." He added with a sarcastic tone.

"I totally should. I'd like you to say a prayer for those who behaved without grace in regards to Adam Steele's most recent football performance." His laugh echoed so loudly that the chatter of our friends stilled for a minute. The motion of their heads snapping towards us made us snicker harder.

"You tell em babe. I bet they wouldn't wonder who wrote that."

"I will do it."

"I know you will."

"I don't like people being mean to you."

"I know. I feel the same about you." I smiled and listened to the high pitched voices of all the girls arriving. In no time, beer would be poured and they'd all be kissing or taking their four-wheelers and cars out to park in the woods.

"Adam, why did you pick me?" I know that I loved him because of it, but there were girls always hitting on him. I also made it clear from the beginning that I was waiting for marriage. Knowing some of his reputation, I was sure he'd never wait for me, but he proved me wrong and without complaint.

"Because I want to see the world as you see it. Because every time I'm with you… the world just looks better."

I returned from that night at the sound of my phone's alarm reminding me of our appointment. This was the sign I needed. I couldn't stay isolated in this apartment any longer. Showering quickly, I spritzed my hair with beach spray to avoid having to blow-dry it straight. I reached for the most visible clothing pieces I had which were white Bermuda shorts and an off white lace pullover. I walked out the door in thirty minutes, my personal best so far for the city. I immediately relaxed and my shoulders loosened once the elevator doors closed. Walking through the parking garage, I simultaneously dug through my purse for my car key that wasn't really a key. I still wasn't quite used to this or the button I pushed to start the car. What was so wrong with keys?

"Ana." I spun around quickly to see Christian and Taylor standing by his car. I felt my pulse quicken and my brain scramble. He wore a plain navy blue t-shirt and dark washed jeans that fit his lean build perfectly.

"Hey." I replied brightly and walked over to them both.

"Hi Taylor."

"Hi Ma'am." Taylor responded with his usual stiff but warm demeanor. His age, probably in his late forties, did nothing to deter the seriousness of his occupation. His towering height and muscular build made him appear as if he could take down an army of men.

"Did you enjoy anymore of those cookies?"

"Someone else ate them all." I turned to Christian who shrugged with a youthful smile.

"They were very good, but I did hit the gym right after."

"Oh, I know. I did the same after I made them."

"Are you heading to your appointment?"

I stilled and contemplated an answer. Sometimes I wish I didn't associate lying with Mawmaw's 'look' of narrowed eyes that could instill guilt for even just contemplating the act.

"I had to reschedule. I don't want you to think I lied, it's just Adam couldn't make it so it's a no go for today."

"It's fine. You're free for that lunch I owe you then?"

"Well, I'm sure you're busy."

"No. I was working from home today and was just taking a break to get some lunch."

"Okay, any recommendations for restaurants? I'm not quite familiar with the city yet." I started out shaky but finished the statement strong despite my apprehension about lunch.

"Le Pichet is a nice french café."

"Okay."

"Want me to drive?"

"I'll meet you there. I think that I might walk around afterwards."

"Okay. Follow me then." He climbed into his Audi with its masculine dark gray color and its sleek shape. The indented lines beautifully curved to frame the doors and tires. It looked fast and dangerous.

As soon as I climbed into my car, I took a moment to breathe. The current of his presence flooded my body, breaking the dams I built over the past two days. I heard the roar of his engine much like his presence, and I followed him.

Le Pichet wore a vintage blue front with circular tables that paraded the excited chatter of the people sitting at them.

"I don't think we'll find a table."

"It's already prepared for us." The restaurant was small with a khaki green and deep red color scheme. Numerous people sat at the bar, and I loved the feel of the vibrant scene. The warmth of the crowd of people enjoying themselves emanated throughout the space. In the far corner sat a wine shelf completely filled. I wished that I enjoyed wine although, like beer, I'm sure it was an acquired taste.

The farthest table settled into a cozy corner against a banquette which lined the full length of the room. Appetizers and waters were already awaiting us when I slid into the banquette, and Christian sat in the chair across from me.

"This is a beautiful quaint restaurant." I observed as he raised his chin proudly, the smooth skin crinkling with the beginnings of a smile.

"I own it."

"Oh." The waitress introduced herself as Sophia before they both began to speak in French. As he ordered, his eyes never left me.

"What would you like to drink? We have a nice beer I think you'd like."

"Whatever you think. I trust your judgment." His lips quirked up slightly, as if I had just blessed his ears with golden words. I felt the familiar sensation of heat coursing through my body that made me bite the inside of my lip.

"We will both be drinking the Cidre Dupont Reserve." He instructed our server as his large hand snaked around the back of the chair showcasing his muscular arms. I don't know when it happened, but every move of his body seemed alluring even the slight tilt of his chin towards me. I snapped my eyes to my water and took a sip hoping that the proverbial chill from the ice would extinguish the flame.

"What made you open a place like this?" I asked, generally curious and wanting him to speak with his words and not his body.

"I love France and especially enjoy Paris. Their cafés have the ability to make eating alone feel like you're dining with a crowd."

"The cure for loneliness then?" His cheeks hollowed, and his eyes narrowed at me as if he wondered how I knew.

"For a moment." Christian replied, nervously shifting in his seat.

Sophia placed our glasses of beer down before attending to the table next to us.

"That's amazing. It has a really refreshing cider taste."

"I figured you'd like it."

"Well I'm kinda glad you ordered this instead of wine."

"I know it's not your taste." I picked up the menu and scrunched my nose as I read it. Hearing Christian's laughter, I glanced up at his amused expression.

"Why don't you just order the meal?"

"Trout?"

"Sure." I shrugged with confused excitement. French food lay outside of my comfort zone, but I was willing to try anything.

"Two orders of the grilled trout. Thank you." Sophia nodded, and I watched her run her eyes over Christian when he turned towards me. In such different clothing and in another setting, he seemed so much warmer. It was a distinct side to him that I hadn't yet seen, and the French fluidly escaped his lips like second nature.

"I've never had the itch to travel, but you make it look so appealing. You wear that wordly knowledge well."

"You should go visit there. It's beautiful and my favorite place to travel."

"Okay, I'll just jump on a plane." I answered jokingly.

"I have four you can use." He replied nonchalantly.

"Four planes? Like commercial planes?" I could tell he was trying not to laugh as he nodded.

"Seriously? I swear you say these things for shock factor."

"Your eyes get so big. I can't help it."

"So does my heart, I don't know if it can take it anymore." I laughed back.

"Your nightingale heart."

"Funny you mention it considering we met over roses." He struggled to hide the surprise that I understood the reference. "Mawmaw loved the story. Even in a small town, we are not immune to Oscar Wilde's beauty."

The tale of the Nightingale and the Rose then entered my mind as it had been one of my favorite short stories. I vividly recalled the plot. A young boy was in love with a girl who would only dance with him for a red rose, but he had none. A nightingale heard his sorrowful cries. Sympathizing with his yearning for love, the bird searches the garden for his red rose. She found a tree and promised to sing her most beautiful song for a red rose, but that tree only created white roses. After several failed attempts, she finally found a tree that grew red roses but the winter's frost had been too harsh for it to produce any. The tree tells the nightingale that it can make a red rose with the blood of its heart and the sound of her most beautiful song. The nightingale then sings and presses herself onto a thorn until it pierces her heart so sweetly providing that young boy a rose for his love.

"It makes sense, the nightingale does represent faith." I spoke while Christian relaxed in his chair curious about my statement.

I continued. "Not just faith in relation to a deity, faith in general. She represents the strong belief and trust in love."

"But she dies for no reason. The young boy threw the rose that she gave her blood for into the road like it meant nothing." He spoke the words with an easy detachment that I believe hid his desire to experience that kind of sacrifice. So many of us read stories to feel emotions we have never experienced in reality, and I wondered if this is how he viewed love. Did he perceive love as powerful, all consuming, and everlasting but always _crippled_ by circumstance? I covered his hand with mine, feeling him nervously still beneath the pads of my fingers. The warmth of our hands merged as we touched.

"The beauty is in her belief, in her optimism and struggle for love. She _believed _in something and fought for it. For that, her death wasn't senseless but inspiring." His palm turned and caught my fingers paralyzing the moment. I felt this when he clung to my hand at church, and I was surprised when he then suddenly pulled his hand away first. He sat straighter in his chair and called Sophia over to order a scotch.

Gathering my breath and composure, I finished my beer hoping my frantic heart wouldn't beat right out of my chest. We seemed to reach an impasse in minutes, returning to our casual conversation of neutral topics safe for us both.

"You're casually dressed today. It looks nice on you." I told him as we walked towards his car after finishing lunch.

"I'm heading to New York for three weeks and prefer to be comfortable when I travel. "

"Well, have a safe trip and thank you for lunch. I'm sure we'll see each other when you get back."

"I'm sure. Thank you for the photographs. Where are you heading?" I started to ramble. I would usually hug someone when leaving them, but my feelings were too raw. I knew the gesture would mean more than it should.

"To the library I think. I'm feeling inspired." He smiled and waved before climbing into his car.

Two weeks had passed. My eyes grew heavy as I lay reading in bed. I then heard my phone vibrate and was expecting it to be Adam telling me that he was working late, which was painstakingly obvious as I had eaten dinner alone again. For the past few weeks, he had been working late almost every night. We barely talked besides our morning conversations and short texts throughout the day. We also hardly argued. Our current dynamic consisted of compromising before actually needing to compromise. When anticipating disagreements, we both caved before anything could actually escalate. I grabbed my phone, and the screen lit where Christian's name and a picture of an apple pie slice appeared.

_Doesn't compare. _

It was such a simple gesture yet an echoing message that caused my breath to hitch. My eyes fixated on the photograph as my cheek pressed against my pillow.

_Of course not. It's not Mawmaw's recipe. _

_Haha. Guard that with your life then. It's late. What are you doing? _

My eyes moved to the book and back to my screen.

_I'm just reading a book. You?_

_I'm just reading contracts._

I smiled as I imagined him still at a desk, the lights of New York City engulfing him as he worked with that creased brow and tight jaw.

_That's no fun. I'm sure the apple pie helped._

_Not as much as yours would. _

_I think I'll bake you one when you come home._

_I'll buy you an orchard._

_I don't need an orchard._

_Then…__whatever your nightingale heart desires._

My fingers danced over the keyboard on my screen as I smiled brightly. At the sound of Adam coming in the door, I shut my phone off and put it back on my end table. Quickly turning off my light, I closed my eyes and settled into bed.

With fluttering eyes, the darkness eventually grew tolerable until a familiar scent tickled my nose. I tried to fall back to sleep, but the daze cleared with every inhale of that scent. It grew heavier in a way that I felt wrapped in it, completely draped in its masculinity. I raised my arms above my head and languidly stretched feeling a soft teasing caress on my skin. Looking down, I noticed the foreign fabric covering my body.

_Silk?_

A red silk nightgown clung to my skin, and I moved my eyes down to see there was little to differentiate this from a camisole. With two thin straps and a low neckline, this wasn't anything I had ever worn. I searched the bed around me confused to where Adam was when the room began to ripple with the thought. A dream.

A pleasured tingle danced across my skin, and I deeply inhaled a thick wave of that scent. _His _scent.

_Christian?_

I climbed off the bed. My bare feet were hardly able to keep up with the rest of my body as I escaped my bedroom. And there he was. Christian stood before the landscape of the city that our floor to ceiling windows provided. He dominated the scenery in his black tuxedo looking magnificent and outrageously formal compared to my nightgown. I sighed. It had been so long that he'd been this close.

"You're not supposed to be here." I spoke slowly, and he lazily turned his head towards me. His gaze met mine and then seductively crawled down my neck, then to my breasts, and he lingered at my hips with a wayward smirk. Returning his stare to the city again, I realized that he was going to make me work for his attention.

"Be where Ana?" My body quivered, already shaken by his visual undressing. The intense fire began where my fingers desperately wanted to travel, but I restrained.

"In my dream." I replied with a voice that I barely recognized. It was softer, and my words elongated with a breathy tone. The familiar all-encompassing fervor for touch returned with a starved vengeance. Why did I only feel this around him?

"Then why am I here?" My heart felt weightless in my chest. My body became nothing but what it felt, a desire pulsing hard throughout.

"I don't know." I answered, confused. Why was he in my dream? I wanted him to look at me, talk to me, and come closer.

"Yes you do." I shook my head as the lights that illuminated the city bathed my apartment seducing the haunting shadows of the night.

"Why do I feel like this?" I asked, my fingers caressed the exposed skin of my chest.

"Feel like what?" His deep voice shook the floor beneath my feet sending tremors up my legs, and I gripped the doorway.

"Like every inch of my skin is being ravaged by someone's lips." I uttered breathlessly. I moved slowly towards him but stopped when he suddenly turned around. He leaned against the window, and his grays nearly devoured my naked body.

"Whose lips Ana?"

I couldn't answer that. The room began to morph again as soon as my mind strayed as if an impervious wall imprisoned my thoughts.

"Don't be shy now. You're practically wearing nothing for me." There was so much desire behind his words that it panicked me to my core.

"This feeling is a lie. It doesn't mean anything." He raised his eyebrows as if amused by what I just said. Finally he moved towards me, loosening his tie and throwing it somewhere I couldn't see. When I looked back up, he stood a foot away, so much closer. His top three buttons were undone, and his stormy grays sent shocks of lightening through me. Even a foot away, he towered over me filling my entire vision. I couldn't look anywhere but into his eyes.

"But only _I _can make you feel this." He spoke confidently.

"You can make any woman feel this. I'm nothing special to you." He stepped closer, just one step and stopped. His eyes narrowed, and I watched his jaw tighten.

"You know exactly how I feel about you. You read me better than anyone else."

"This is my dream. I could've made you say that." He moved closer, taking my hips in his large hands and pulled me near him. My heart pounded against my ribcage threatening to break through each delicate bone.

"You did make me say it because you know it's true. You just refuse to admit it." I felt the reverberations of his deep voice through his chest. He leaned down close; his cheek slightly grazed mine, and his hot breath marked my bare shoulder.

"I. Scare. You." He whispered harshly, and I shuddered with closed eyes.

"Yes." I whispered back into his chest, my scorching breath now caressing his exposed skin.

"Do you want to feel it again?" He asked as he hooked his finger under my chin and raised my head up. I couldn't look at him so I focused on my dancing fingers exploring the hard expanse of his chest.

"I already am." He nudged my chin with his finger, and I looked up finally. He had me completely in that moment. I became completely lost in how warm his eyes had become.

"I can make you feel more." He pulled my chin towards him, and his lips brushed the tip of my nose before grazing mine. The touch was electric and stole my breath away. Every nerve ending of my body fired at the same time, and I dug my fingers into his shirt pulling myself closer.

"That's it." He spoke against my lips, and the sharp touch of his breath against my lips forced me to claim his. This is what he wanted. He wanted me to pursue him. His tongue slid against mine and his hand palmed the back of my head, his fingers getting lost in my hair. I moaned, feeling the flutter of a million butterflies inside my stomach and their wings flickering against my sensitive skin. Sensory, it was overwhelming bordering on heart stopping, but I couldn't get enough. He pulled away, and my forehead fell against his skin as our chests heaved in unison. His hands found mine and entwined our fingers. Slowly, he raised both arms and I offered them freely. I was too undone to refuse.

He kissed the palms of my hands sending new shockwaves vibrating down my spine.

"I love these hands Ana." He spoke into them before releasing my fingers. Taking a finger into his mouth, I moaned into the fabric of his shirt.

"I loved the way they stroked the rose petals that night I first met you like they were incalculable with their beauty." He took in another finger, and I felt his tongue slide down the thin column before he pulled it out.

"I love the way they nourish me." I raised my head from his chest and cupped his cheek with my hand. He leaned into it, craving the intimacy.

"You're more than this." I told him, and he furrowed his brow. "You have so much more to offer a woman than just these." I grazed his lips with my thumb and moved my hand to cover where his heart lay.

"This does exist." I curled my fingers. "I feel it."

"I'm not good Ana."

"You're just misguided." I pulled his shirt to expose more skin and replaced my hand with a soft kiss.

"I think I am too." Our heads both snapped towards the front entryway as we heard the jostling of the door handle. The room rippled in large waves, distorting the entire scenery. Christian moved away, back towards the balcony door.

"No! Don't go yet." I spoke panicked with his distance.

"This is all you Ana." He motioned towards the quivering walls of my apartment before my vision went pitch black.

I shot up in bed with feelings of panic and sadness. Patting my stomach and hips with frantic hands, I sighed in relief.

_Cotton. _

Looking down the length of my body beneath the comforter, I fell heavily back against the bed. My heart pulsed at a frantic pace from my dream, and I struggled to compose myself. I turned over in bed and noticed that Adam was gone, but he left a note.

_Had to leave early for work. Didn't want to wake you. Love you._

Tears wet my cheeks as I realized how far I strayed from my marriage and how well I had denied it all. Nausea ravaged me as I climbed out of bed and ran to the bathroom. My hands gripped the seat of the toilet, and I threw up at the sight of my wedding ring.


	9. Chapter 8

_First and foremost, Gobears Fanfiction cowrote this chapter. I think you'll find her style of writing spectacular just as I do! I apologize for the wait. Originally Chapter 8 was going to be from Christian's pov however it wasn't working and we scrapped an entire chapter and then wrote this one. T__his Ana's character is highly difficult to write. So, these chapters take a lot of time. Please enjoy and know that long breaks are due to our working on the chapters! We will continue with this story! Thank you so much everyone for your wonderful responses!_

Chapter 8

"Are you scared Ana?" Mawmaw asked as her worn hands gingerly tied the blush sash around my wedding dress. I met her probing eyes in the mirror and smiled affectionately.

"No. Love doesn't scare me."

"I know sweet girl." Her arms snaked around my waist, and I basked in the warmth of her loving embrace. Two generations melded together like the perennial vines that graced Mawmaw's garden.

"You're happy right? With Adam and I getting married? I want to make you proud." She abruptly turned me around and tears welled in her ocean blue eyes. Like the current of the sea, the blurred color carried me home.

"Honey, my heart sometimes can't handle how proud I am of you. When I see the young woman you are, I know my death will leave behind my greatest accomplishment. I love Adam for you." I nodded and fell into her chest as she enveloped me once again in the sanctuary of her cradle.

Without warning, the ringing of the church bells pounded ruthlessly in my ears tearing me from my memories. Six years later, here I was sitting in my car outside my church, paralyzed unable to open the door. The metal of the door handle chilled my grip. Living for everyone else, my faith, Adam, and Mawmaw, I don't know if I can recognize any decisions that were completely my own. I've never thought of myself as weak. When my faith is strong, I am as well. When my marriage is happy, I'm content. How do you reconcile your personal happiness and your faith when they no longer travel the same path?

I turned the diamond of my wedding ring around my finger, studying the tangible symbol of our love and commitment. The gem appeared lifeless as I had not cleaned it for a while, and the neglect pained me. Feeling the familiar ache of this past week vibrate through my chest to the settling place behind my eyes, I shut my lids. Darkness confined my tears at least for a moment. I was here at my church to confess my sins, to seek guidance, but I couldn't seem to escape the car. My purse then abruptly rang the tune of my phone. I reached in and grabbed for it quickly. A text from Christian lit the screen. My heart throbbed wildly, an acute reminder of why I remain trapped in my car seat.

_Did you get the check?_

Rummaging through my purse again, I pulled out the white envelope with Christian's initials monogrammed in black ink appearing in the left hand corner. My name graced the center, written in relaxed cursive. The rigid letters dressed the envelope in masculinity, emphatically embodying Christian. I was too raw this morning so I hadn't yet opened it. I paused, drawing in a deep breath, and my hands trembled slightly as I hastily tore the envelope. It was Christian's check, and my eyes suddenly grew wide at how many zeros appeared before me.

_$10,000. _

I felt an immediate jolt. As I shoved the check back into the envelope, I noticed the corner of a note peering at me. My fingers pinched the squared edge and pulled it shakily. In Christian's handwriting, it read…

_Ana, _

_Please don't rip up the check. I know you're thinking about it. _

I laughed a little, welcoming the relief of his humor, but it was fleeting.

_Whatever you decide to do with this money, I'll support you. Save it, donate it, or spend it, I don't care as long as the action makes you happy. Enjoy. _

_Christian_

Tears shed faster than my fingers could catch them. They stained my cheeks like the indelible mark he had imprinted upon my soul. In another life we could have worked but not in this one. It wasn't possible.

_I did. Thank you. Your note was incredibly sweet. _

Each staggering step I took towards the church felt overwhelming. Shuddering, my breathing labored as I grabbed the church's door handle. The wooden doors seemed more colossal, colder…. surely they weren't as warm for a blatant sinner. Pastor Stevens sat in a pew three rows from the front when he heard me close the door.

"I wondered if you would ever leave your car." He smiled and spoke tenderly with commanding grace. His words echoed, ricocheting off the towering church ceiling in a tone that embraced me warmly with nothing but generous compassion. His brown eyes cast a look of sympathy for my pain. I wanted to suspend time for just a moment and wallow in his kindness because I was sure it wouldn't last long considering my sins.

"I'm sorry." I spoke quietly as I slid cautiously next to him in the pew. I wondered if he could hear the staccato of my racing pulse. Placing my hands on my lap, I couldn't help but wring them together nervously. The warmth of threading my fingers still failed to melt the chill that was slithering down my spine as I contemplated my confession.

"Don't be. What's troubling your soul?" My chest tightened as I searched desperately for the words. Finally, I could hear my voice meekly filling the small space between us as the confession escaped my quivering lips.

"I have failed my faith and my marriage." The words swirled through the air descending over us like a storm cloud threatening to drench us in a torrential downpour.

"Have you committed adultery?" He asked without judgment but merely with genuine curiosity.

"Not in the physical sense." I whispered meeting his eyes again as he straightened and nodded his head. "I have feelings for someone else. I think he has feelings for me, and I'm fairly certain I've encouraged them."

Pastor Stevens cleared his throat, and the sound was almost deafening. Although his face appeared to slightly harden, he exuded a gentle dominance as he continued to softly speak with me.

"How is your marriage?"

"Strained." I answered honestly, surprised at how quickly I responded. "Since our move here, it's been an adjustment. We've both changed some, and we're not communicating like we used to. We don't even fight anymore." Biting down on the inside of my lip, I struggled to share with him my darkest fear. Sensing my hesitation, he waited patiently until I was ready to continue talking.

"I fear that we both don't want to fight for our marriage anymore." Pastor Stevens' silence panicked me so I continued to ramble.

"I love my husband. I promise I do. Adam is an amazing man." My voice shook with my pleas, and he hushed me quietly before embracing my hands. His touch slowly began to soothe the ache that assaulted my heart.

"I don't doubt you do. I see the trouble this brings you and the pain you're feeling. You wouldn't feel this if you didn't love your husband. That is evidence enough that you still care, and you're still invested in your marriage." An inkling of weight gave way from my chest allowing a deeper breath. The tissue in my hands was shredded, wet with tears, but his words shrouded me in warmth.

"What is it that you like about this other man?" I fought the smile that struggled to emerge at the thought of Christian. A tingling sensation flooded my body as I pondered the question. There were many things to like and yet so much a mystery, but at the core I trusted him…where it mattered.

"He's supportive and never judges me. I feel free to make mistakes…I don't feel so restrained. I feel…" Pausing to search for the right word, it hit me around the same time Christian's face entered my mind, and those piercing gray eyes bore straight into my soul.

_Free_

"Accepted."

"Are these things currently strained in your marriage?" He asked and confusion coursed its way through the already raw nerves now firing like malfunctioning canons. Was that all this was? All Christian was? Was he simply the filler to the voids that I felt in my marriage? I should have been excited; a weight of something more, something almost divine should have been lifted. But the more I tried to diminish our friendship, the more this excruciating pain and hollow emptiness emanating in my chest threatened to swallow me whole.

"Yes."

"Sometimes, when we feel unsatisfied, we search outside our home for more to gratify our needs. With a marriage, you won't always be happy, satisfied…fulfilled. Don't seek the answers elsewhere. The explanations for these minor bumps always lie between the two of you in the sanctity of your communion. You mentioned that you both have changed. Take this opportunity to learn about each other again, reconnect. Pray together. Make time for each other. But…"

"You do have to be honest with him about this man." I nodded knowing he was right, but my stomach churned suddenly at the idea of facing my husband. The anguish in Adam's eyes, his disappointment knowing that his wife failed their marriage and her faith…the image choked me as if I was being buried alive, plunged into eternal darkness. Gasping for air, Pastor Stevens responded by clutching my hand harder. He paused for a moment until I visibly calmed.

"It is never too late for absolution. Why don't we pray?" Closing my eyes, I followed as each word curled through the air gently caressing my spirit. I drew strength from it, and apologized over and over again to the lord, my heavenly father for my sins. Slowly, the light remerged bathing us in warmth. As Pastor Stevens finished with bible verses, inspiration gently guided me through the haze. I left the church lighter than when I entered it.

As I walked into our apartment, I drew in a deep cleansing breath. As a shepherd gently leads the lamb, I felt guided by my visit with Pastor Stevens. If anything, I found ground in the swirl of the chaos that enshrouded me. Even if it were ground wretched with potholes, at least it was a foundation. Exhausted but already running late, I jumped in the shower and dressed for the evening out. I left my hair down in loose curls and added a smoky dark eyeliner and mascara to help cloak the remnants of my weeping over the past couple days. Tonight, I'd been invited to attend a charity dance and dinner at Grace's home. I was genuinely excited to go there and support Grace's wonderful work. Christian was still in New York, and I absolutely adored what the charity stood for and who they helped. Green Hands funded community gardens in the inner city and in areas where neighborhood resources were lacking. The produce was free for all those who helped tend the garden. The program also held healthy cooking seminars along with donating cookware and kitchen utensils. They also fostered leadership by assigning a new guide each day that would outline schedules and people's positions. It seemed to have an amazing positive effect. The thought of those children gardening made me smile affectionately and thrive in the light of hope. I could almost feel the moist soil running through my fingers waiting in anticipation to nourish the tiny seeds. I knew the accomplishment one felt when the plants began to sprout, and the fulfillment just multiplies with each inch that it grows…when the green tomatoes start to appear or when the potato plants begin to flower.

The scenery outside my window blurred into several shades of green terrain as I approached the Grey's home. I had texted Grace earlier to ask if I could arrive early. Trying to put on my gown by myself had turned into a disaster because I couldn't fasten the tiny buttons that lined the back zipper. I felt so alone in that moment, but also grateful for Grace. As I pulled the car into their entrance, the domineering trees that lined their driveway stood even taller illuminated delicately with hints of lights that snaked gingerly through their branches. Their leaves blew gently in the wind as if reaching to welcome its visitors with a glowing kiss. Several people hurried back and forth from the backyard to the front, and I parked close to their garage.

"Ana!" Grace's warmth felt soothing. After my morning, I craved the solace and clutched the dress garment bag in my hands.

"Thank you. I don't mean to bother you. It's just that I can't fasten these buttons on my own." Her smile faded some as she walked closer, but the corners of my lips headed further north as she glided next to me. I felt content in her radiance.

"Oh, it's fine!" She playfully shook her head and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "I'll have someone bring your gown up. Why don't you join me upstairs in my room while I finish getting ready for the party? It'll be nice to have another woman around. Sometimes I think Mia_ purposely_ enrolled in summer school." In that moment, I could have curled up onto her lap and melted into her with her motherly manner. Like a lone child needing that reassurance, I'd gladly take it from anyone, but she felt so right. She led me up her elegant winding stairs that seem to travel endlessly; the contrast of the painted white top panels beautifully adorned the stained wood. It curved up and around until you hit a landing that overlooked a living area filled with crisp white couches. The room possessed a nautical feel embellished with a rope bordered mirror on the wall and a navy blue throw carefully draped over the couch. I followed her down a large hallway dressed with pictures of their family. Formal portraits adorned one wall while the other held vacation photographs and pictures from their backyard. I stilled at one of Christian's as a child. He wasn't hard to recognize with his copper curls framing his youthful face and his lovely gray eyes dominating the frame. He had to be about five or six years old as he sat on Carrick's lap on their yacht. Grace captured the perfect moment…Christian staring at Carrick as they stood by an oversized steering wheel. His eyes gleamed brilliantly with adoration and reverence for his father. It was the epitome of a child's love.

"I love this one."

"Yes, me too." Grace smiled with a glimmer of sadness. I'd never understand their family dynamic. In pictures, they looked so perfect, brimming with happiness, but reality revealed a dark blue undertone where heartache seemed ever present.

Grace's room was also decorated in a nautical theme although it was a much more understated version than the living room downstairs. The king sized headboard towered over a bed dressed in crisp white linens which were expertly tucked and folded. Crossing the open expanse of the bedroom, we entered her closet which made my heart skip several beats. It was larger than my bathroom and bedroom combined, and her clothing was precisely organized by color, style and fabric. The shelves and the drawers also seemed to sprawl across the room in an endless stream. I just couldn't believe it. Grace's items were also the only ones in the room. Carrick's clothes must be stashed away in his own colossal version of a closet. In the middle of the wall, there was a large antique wooden vanity. Exquisite carvings of indented wood and curved corners with a swirl beautifully etched stood out against the modern shelving. It was grand, warm, and beautiful just like Grace. There were several chairs to choose from, but I selected the seat with the tall rounded back finished with a thin white pin striped fabric. I watched a hairstylist work on Grace as she unloaded information… all the people I'll meet and those who should be avoided. The staff carried my dress in, removed it from the garment bag, and then hung it on one of the hooks on the wall opposite of me.

"Oh Ana, I just love that gown. It is just exquisite, so…you." I smiled warmly and studied the most expensive dress I had ever purchased; one glance and you would understand why. Soft dark blush pleats covered the bodice adorning its sweetheart neckline, but it was the dramatic skirt that drew attention…it left me breathless. Chiffon tucked roses cascaded from the bodice to the floor. It was like a waterfall of floral fabric.

"Thank you. I love it too." My eyes flickered with excitement in anticipation of wearing the gown.

Grace stood in a gold one shouldered dress that would undoubtedly stun the crowd. She offered an appreciative smile as she fastened the tiny buttons that lined the back of my bodice as if I was helping her more than she was actually assisting me. I don't think I could ever explain the comfort her friendship gave me, just the familiar warm feeling of the companionship of an older woman. Growing up with Mawmaw, I've always felt more drawn to older souls. Mine has often been described as such.

After fastening the last button, she turned me around to face her. She gently placed her hands on the sides of my arms lightly caressing them. "You look beautiful Ana. Adam is a lucky man. When does he arrive home?"

"Thank you. He comes home tomorrow." She nodded and abruptly turned away to glance at her phone before hooking her arm through mine and escorting us both to the party.

Champagne glasses on trays, men in tuxedos, and food that took an accent to pronounce all filtered through the party. The dresses were simply amazing, a spectacular kaleidoscope of shades painted the room. I would have been perfectly content just to people watch in the corner, but Grace had other plans. She introduced me to a crowd of guests. For some folks, she would firmly nudge my shoulder and shoot me a look that they were of the group of people I should avoid. I replied with playful disapproval as she laughed.

"Ana, honey, what is it?" Her voice sounded distant as I stared at Christian across the room. Even with the soaring vaulted ceilings, his masculine presence boldly commanded the large space. Every woman's gaze seemed to be fixated on the view; each desperately seeking to inhale his virile essence. Panic, relief, and every other emotion flooded my veins lighting every nerve on fire. God, he looked so handsome in a tuxedo… the image sparked the memory of the extremely vivid dream I had a week ago.

_Don't be shy now. You're practically wearing nothing for me._

A scarlet blush blazed swiftly across my chest, and I felt the prickling of my skin as it prepared itself for the effects of his proximity. Towering over two men, he spoke with not only his height but with his intoxicating aura. I could barely tear my eyes away. With a slight turn of his chin, we connected, and his eyes narrowed before he smiled… a sinister grin. The smoldering gray began to slowly undress me.

"It's nothing. I was just surprised to see Christian." I rambled as I forcefully averted my gaze and hooked my arm back through Grace's.

"Oh yes. He closed his deal this morning and flew back soon after. I am just as surprised to see him. He doesn't attend parties much anymore, not unless he has to. He's extremely private."

"Hmm." I answered as my mind strayed to the dream that I so desperately worked hard to avoid. I felt his watchful stare creeping down every inch of my body, but at the same time his gaze also enveloped me in a hooded cloak. It touched me like a protective hand tenderly caressing my lower back. I don't know how I knew that he worried for me, but I did. I could feel his distress penetrating the air; his fear was almost palpable thrumming in the space between us. I also felt the same impulses for him.

Throughout the night, I relentlessly avoided him; hiding in conversations, watching him from a distance, and turning my head at just the right moment before he caught my stare. I was a coward in a beautiful dress running hastily from the man who haunted my dreams.

_You know exactly how I feel about you. You read me better than anyone else._

About two long hours later, I looked over at the bar and saw Christian pounding back several drinks. He clenched the tumbler with such force that I was surprised it did not crack. He then abruptly turned towards me before I could escape his eyes…they appeared slightly glazed. He looked at me longingly, almost as if he was in pain. I couldn't bare it any longer. I fled and joined a crowd that toured the residence. I watched Grace speak so adoringly about her garden, and Carrick listened intently along with everyone else. I found them both so endearing.

"You're avoiding me." I heard Christian whisper in my ear from behind me. His deep commanding voice sent electric shock waves strumming through my entire body. I could smell him….the undeniable all consuming scent of Christian. It was maddening. Needing desperately to evade him, I focused on Grace as she spoke, and tried to remain composed.

"Yes."

"Why?" We both walked with the group, and his footsteps shadowed mine, always right behind merely inches away from me.

"You don't have to answer." He spoke again as I felt his fingers slide against the palm of my hand. His breath touched my skin with an intense almost burning sensation as his thumb grazed my wrist. My breathing suddenly began to match his, shallow and shaky.

"Christian I know we're friends but this is inapprop..." I pulled my hand away quickly when his fingers gripped mine.

"Ana, you and I both know that friends don't look at each other the way we do." I spun around careful not to disrupt the group and peered at him intensely. He was right. This was the moment that I thought I could glare at him for his indecency, but I was forcibly hit with the undeniable truth…I then became lost in his strong gray eyes, and the flutter in my stomach made my legs tremble uncontrollably.

"Don't." I pleaded and threatened. Tears welled clouding my eyes, and he stepped away surprised at my reaction.

"Ana." I crossed the lawn in record time when I suddenly felt him grab my arm. His fingers curled around me, demanding I stop.

"Please dance with me." I scanned the tent to see if anyone was watching, but all were focused on the band.

"Christian, please."

"Just one dance." He asked but didn't wait for an answer. Moving his hand from my wrist to mine, he led us toward the dance floor.

"This is one of my favorite songs. Here is an acoustic version of Sam Cooke's Bring it On Home To Me." The singer continued to speak as I closed my eyes at the first sound of his guitar.

I followed Christian's lead. Even as the music blanketed the guests covering every crevice of the room, I felt stripped naked; my feelings were completely exposed. They consisted of an unknown mixture of fear, excitement, and the awakening of my nerves. The rapid beat in my chest could float me away…it's hammering against my ribcage was raw and wild much like the man that stood before me. Magnificent colors painted the sky, some only witnessed this evening. Never again will those specific shades and hues of blues, reds, and purples ever be replicated on the skies canvas. There was so much beauty before the darkness. And even after the sun descended, beauty existed within the stars for their lights were only able to be seen in the black of night.

Extending his hand, he flicked his wrist so I spun in my dress making the petals of my skirt dance in the manufactured breeze. It felt good to smile and even better to see him happy. His grays were light and free as he pulled gently on my hand before catching me.

"It's nice to see you smile."

"Yours is better." He held my gaze as he glided us gracefully across the dance floor. That hypnotic voice melted our surroundings away, and we melded into one as if we were alone in the room. He led our movements with a sense of ease that guided mine. I wasn't raised to learn formal dances like this, but Christian made me feel relaxed with his authoritative tenderness. He was also different tonight, completely natural in my presence not at all uncomfortable as he sometimes seemed. With every glance that I allowed my eyes to lock on his, I lost a breath…really he stole them from me. His hand tightened at my waist, and I curled my fingers through the open spaces of his other…entwined. In that moment I met his gaze, and I didn't look away. He held it, guarded it protectively, and smiled appreciatively like I had given him something of great value. The skin of my arms tingled, firing the currents of heat his touch sparked in me like wildfire. His fingers then snaked around the curve of my hip and pulled me closer to him as he slowly ushered us across the floor. Our bodies moved in sync, and his rigid frame brushed against me. As I felt the heat of his body stroke me, I suddenly became in tune with his shallow breathing which set off sheer panic. The ache in my chest then emerged from the depths of my tortured soul. It pained me like no other to know I would never feel this connection again, how I should never have felt it to begin with, and that I only experience this with one person…with Christian and not my husband. As the song ended, this horrible constriction squeezed my lungs. I pulled away at the last breathy word of the song and the final flick of the guitar string. Guilt ravaged my body and my mind as I moved even farther away from Christian.

"Ana, is everything okay?" I couldn't look at him…at what so easily tempted my heart and mind.

"I should go, before I make a fool of myself." Quickly I turned, grabbing two champagne glasses gulping them on my way out and hoping for immediate relief, but it gave none. My feet hurried towards the front of the house; my dress was not too heavy or tight to prevent my hasty escape. I stopped at an oak tree out front void of an audience and collapsed back against it.

The acute burn in my chest as I struggled to inhale a full breath brought my hands to my knees, and I hung my head low. Fighting, straining…I felt like I was about to pass out. My cries choked in a blood curdling high pitched echo, and fabric worked its way beneath my fingernails as I frantically dug into the skirt of my dress. It felt so foreign to be this terrified, this heavy. The piercing sound of pulsing blood deafened my surroundings, threatening to rupture my ear drums. My head began to throb viciously in rhythm with every pulse. Tears stained my cheeks, but I felt nothing, not the wet impact or the trail they traveled. I only knew they were there because of the dark spots now decorating my dress. Brisk cool comfort encased my hands and the wind carried his scent, that familiar yet shaking scent. I pressed my lids tighter, and my forehead creased with my effort. I wanted to pray, but I felt like I had no right.

"Ana." Just the sound of his voice released some pressure from my chest.

"I. Can't. Breathe." I stuttered, and each word brought me dangerously close to blacking out.

"Okay. It's alright." His fingers curled around mine, grazing the curve between my thumb and wrist with slow strokes.

"What helps you usually with anxiety?"

"I cook….recipes." My words were choppy with my labored breathing.

"Okay, cook for me, bake an apple pie." He was always so calm and collected but even I sensed the strain in his voice…the worry. The caregiver in me wanted to ease his distress so I pulled my most familiar recipe from my memory bank.

Crust first…I gathered the ingredients in my head, and every once in a while one would escape my lips to offer Christian comfort.

"Flour." I spoke and with each item, my discomfort waned. I finished the crust when I finally felt able to breathe. Not too long after though, I broke into hesitant sobs. Christian's hands weaved tenderly around my arms, and his large palms moved up and down slowly stroking me.

"Why do you do this?" I murmured, my voice was hoarse and choked with tears. I lifted my head looking up from my wrung out hands and pierced my lower lip with my teeth.

"You're killing me…" The words escaped my lips and before I could finish my sentence, a tumultuous guttural cry thundered sending a biting chill down the column of my neck.

"YOU'RE KILLING ME!" He roared, and the deafening crack of his fist slamming into the bark of the tree paralyzed me. I watched the knuckles of his hand redden and pool with blood as he stood, his chest labored with rough heaves.

"You're killing me." He spoke quieter in a breathless tone as if his confession laced around his neck like a heavy rope constricting his airway. Meeting my stare I saw his honesty; he was thoroughly stripped of all control. His soul laid completely bared bathed only in the glimmer of the moonlight.

"You're all I think about. You make me feel this ache in my chest that sometimes makes it so I can't breathe." He spoke with unadulterated passion, a fervor I had never seen before. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes as if it pained him to admit it.

"I want you Ana. I want to dance with you every day. I want to eat lunch with you…breakfast and dinner too. I want it all. I want to argue with you! And God…" He stepped closer, his breathing rapid and uneven.

"God, I want to make up with you. I want to make you feel things that will make your toes curl." I released a sharp breath and a small cry.

"I'll buy you as much land as these hands want to garden. I'll build you the largest gallery for your photographs. I'll give you whatever your heart desires, just tell me what it is Ana!" He begged desperately as if he was on the brink of becoming totally unhinged. Inches away, he reached for my hands. His fingers warmly surrounded mine, softly tracing circles on the back of my hand. The motion mirrored my racing thoughts. My brain fired with overworked nerves still trying to comprehend his confession. The weight of his disclosure crushed me.

"I can't." I whimpered out and Christian's hands cupped my face. His thumbs lightly feathered both sides of my cheeks.

"You want me too. I. Can. Feel. It. TELL ME WHAT TO DO ANA!" Sobs shook my chest as I saw an urgent need in his face; his eyes red and glassy. My body fought my mind with a ferocious intensity; I wanted more than ever to just collapse into his arms.

"Push me away." He hissed, bating my restraint frustratingly. My lower lip quivered as I moved my trembling hands.

"I can." Caught mid-sentence, he claimed my mouth like he might die from starvation if he didn't devour me whole. And when someone kisses you like that, you automatically submit while you head works to catch up. I melted into his hands, their warmth caressing my cheeks, and his fingers forced me more into him. He pried my lips apart with his teeth while his tongue teased my restraint with its long strokes. I cupped his hands with mine, tears trailing my cheeks to meet his. His kiss grew desperate, hungrier, and the droplets fell faster. I hooked my fingers over his, and he stopped when he felt me pull his hands. Dropping his forehead to mine, I felt his sharp breaths strike my face as I brought our hands to our sides.

"I'm so sorry." I moaned, my torment cutting me to the core.

"What does he have that I don't?" He wailed, and I pulled away. I struggled to get my hands free as he clung to them. We tussled, and he drew me swiftly into his tight embrace, holding my body against his throbbing chest. We melded together entwined into one…

"My promise." I whispered, my voice muffled by his quivering body, and then he abruptly let go. I've never seen such a visceral reaction, but I understood. His face contorted in sheer agony, his jaw grew rigid, and his eyes blackened. What brought the tears to my cheeks and this sharp pain to my chest was ravaging heartbreak. I turned rapidly before I'd change my mind. Pulling off my shoes, I ran like mad for I hungered to escape and feel the cool breeze against my heated skin. I raced towards my car even though I knew my destination ended with my confession to Adam when he returned home. Tomorrow, I'd confess it all.


	10. Chapter 9

_Hello everyone! Please don't feel that I'm ignoring you! I am getting married in September so life is getting hectic! I originally wanted to wait to post this until the next chapter was finished also so I could post together but that planned has changed! Please enjoy. I hope to respond to reviews this week and thank everyone personally for their interest and time! Ana and Adam's scene will be visited in the next chapter. _

Chapter 9

"What is he doin C?" Elliot whispered as they both peeked through the cracked door of their father's study. Thomas Parker's and Sam Hamilton's parents cowered in their seats, watching his father fearfully tower above them as their eyes pleaded desperately for mercy, but even he knew there was none.

"He's teaching them a lesson." He hissed, so proud of having a father like him. Carrick's ember eyes bore into his prey with an intensity that could slay the most menacing adversary. Commanding complete submission, his acidic tongue sliced them to their core.

"But why C?" Elliot asked, his guileless eyes widened as he brought a pointer finger to his lips and snapped his mouth shut. Leaning in close without averting his gaze from the unfolding massacre, those parents realized they fucked with the wrong family.

"Because he loves us."

Jolting awake at the sound of his computer, contracts fell to the floor leaving a disorganized mess at his feet. The mountain of papers mirrored the chaos pervading his mind. A glistening sheen outlined his rigid features as he hastily wiped the rivulets inching rapidly down his skull. Interrupted by the ringing of his phone, he glanced at Elliot's ID lit across the screen.

"Yes."

"What the fuck C?" Elliot rarely used his childhood nickname. It was generally reserved for moments he lost all sanity and thought himself to be in the position to actually argue with him.

"What Elliot?"

"Did you put the family attorney on Kate?"

"The girl you impregnated?"

"My girlfriend." Christian narrowed his eyes as Elliot's tone grew deadly. Never had he heard his brother speak with such insidious disdain as if his voice alone could lobotomize him.

"When did this happen?"

"It doesn't fucking matter when it happened. What were you going to do? Pay her off?"

"Well, actually yes." Christian replied in a nonchalant tone. This wasn't a new manner to handle business in their family. In fact, over the years they maintained a separate bank account specifically for these issues.

"Fuck Dad and you. You guys never let me do anything by myself. You always fight my battles for me. Leave her the fuck alone Christian."

"Don't act like you hate us dealing with your shit."

"I never have a fucking choice, but I have one now. Leave her alone or I'll never talk to any of you ever again."

"Elliot…"

"Fuck off. Call off your dogs…Both of you!" Elliot warned before hanging up. Staring at his phone perplexed, Christian threw it on his desk in front of him. Elliot was known for his personality and carefree attitude. They all loved him for it, but this change in character seemed too fucking radical…

God, now he had a pounding headache. Kate Kavanaugh, daughter of Kavanaugh Media owner Richard Kavanaugh was now his brother's girlfriend. Christian scrolled through the folders on his computer before locating Ms. Kavanaugh's file. She was 24 years old and a recent graduate of Brown University with a degree in journalism. Just hired at Seattle Times, he wondered if her pregnancy would hinder her aspirations at all considering she applied to VICE, an agency known for their extreme journalism. Cocking his head to the right, he then surmised that if anyone could tame his brother, it is probably a woman endowed with colossal balls like Ms. Kavanaugh appeared to possess.

Elliot never had girlfriends. He fucked half of Seattle but never committed to anything permanent. He claimed he would cheat, and as such, he remained single to avoid being associated with their father in that way. His father's affairs affected Elliot more than Mia and he combined because he had inadvertently walked in on Carrick fucking someone other than their mother. He was fourteen years old. That night solidified the cataclysmic rupture that already existed in their relationship for Elliot loved Grace and believed that the earth revolved around her. After the image of his father's infidelity was seared into his mind in all its ghastly glory, Elliot ran home seeking solace in his mother's arms as if he was once again a young boy weeping over a scraped knee. He pressed his head against her chest as her fingers combed through his curly blonde hair, and she brushed the salty tears gently away from his cheeks. Completely unbeknownst to her, Grace was ironically soothing the pain Elliot felt from her own betrayal. Like most children, the fear of a separated family kept Elliot quiet at least for a while, but ten tequila shots and countless other drinks on his 21st finally forced his confession to Christian while he helped walk Elliot's drunk ass home.

Monday never felt more excruciating than after being rejected by the only loyal and faithful woman in fucking Seattle. He amassed an entire empire by the tender age of 33, and yet, he failed to seduce the most naïve woman on the planet who ironically just so happened to be the most genuinely intelligent person he had ever had the pleasure to know. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the god awful memories of his outburst under the oak tree viciously surged through his mind decimating everything in its path. Extreme embarrassment speared anxiety through his chest as he remembered his impromptu confession. The words just escaped him, tearing through his filter and hungering for acknowledgement. Uncontrollable desperate urges kept him rambling uninhibited. He looked like a fucking idiot, stripped of pride and with a bloody fist evincing his absolute lack of control. He bared it all for her, and she rejected him…but in her oh so sweet way he used to love. Now, he hated her.

He stopped typing and drew in a deep breath…He _wanted_ to hate her. Fuck, he needed to violently exorcise her and _everything_ Ana from his incessant thoughts. Shame perilously clung on to him, sullying his immaculate façade. Those ocean blue eyes now incited nothing but wrath, agonizing pain, and humiliation of the greatest magnitude. Yet, if he was genuinely honest with himself, Ana inflamed…an unrelenting aching yearning that now eclipsed his world.

"Sir, Adam Steele is here to see you." Andrea's voice paged over the intercom, and he visibly straightened rigid in his chair.

"Send him in." He was in no fucking mood to look at this petulant child so he focused on his computer screen and began to type.

"Adam, how was Chicago?" He spared him a quick glance and then did a double take when he saw that Adam was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Chicago was good. Not at all an emergency like I was told." Leaning back in his chair, he studied Adam as he casually crossed the expanse of his office. His jaw was pulled tight, and he appeared exhausted, his expression teetering between irritation and rage.

_Fuck. He knew._

"Well, that's good and bad I suppose."

"I hear you've spent a lot of time with my wife while I've been gone." Adam sat in the chair across from him, his elbows planted on his knees and a clenched fist palmed by the other. His eyes glared cold blue, but Christian didn't move or shift uncomfortably. To do so would give Adam the impression that he might be intimidated, but scared of a blonde teenager he was not.

"I have." He answered coolly but added a slight smirk just to piss him off.

"That's how you're going to play it?" He asked while his hands rubbed vigorously over his thighs as he nodded in acknowledgement. "Fine."

"If you want to keep your job, I'd consider your coming words carefully." Adam scoffed and then chuckled before they turned into an insidious raucous laughter that permeated every crevice of his office.

"You really think I would stay here after what you've done? You don't think that this all makes sense to me now?" Venom was dripping from his lips as each word projected at him with unparalleled velocity. Christian leaned forward now actually enjoying the entertainment for a Monday. If Adam knew everything, surely their marriage was over. His tongue could almost taste sweet victory… luscious, syrupy with a spicy tang. He'd relish the conversation moving to that information.

"_My _wife loves people. She has an enormous heart, so giving and full of love and acceptance. The more lost you are, the harder she works to find you. You think you're special? You think you're the only person she's felt drawn to help, to pray for." Adam's voice lashed at the air with rage… the second Christian had to endure in a twenty minute time period. How the fuck did he get so damn lucky this morning?

"No." Adam spoke again shaking his head. "No, you're just the first man to pursue her and how selfish you are for doing it, for putting her in that position. Do you want to know how broken I found Ana yesterday?" Christian's chest constricted at the thought of Ana fractured. He could lie to himself all he wanted, but the ominous feeling that he was descending into an abyss said otherwise.

"No? Too much for you?" He shook his head again. "Probably not. She was just a pawn for you, a challenge. You don't give a shit that you made her question everything, her faith, our marriage! I bet you are so used to getting whatever you want. A flick of the finger and there is a girl on her knees in front of you waiting to suck you off. They probably don't even have names or faces for you anymore. God, the job offer after you met her in the garden and all of these inconsequential business trips you've been sending me on… It all makes sense now. Do you want to know the worst part? I could tell Ana all of this until I'm blue in the face, and she wouldn't believe me. She'd still want to believe you are this good person." Guilt started to seep through, most likely Adam's intention. He worked to control it, but the more the words registered, the shame followed suit settling formidably in his gut.

"She's not a child Adam, she's a grown woman." He chimed in. Of all things he hated about Adam, it was that he condescendingly treated Ana as stagnant, dominated primarily by naivety which he assumed controlled most aspects of her life. And the facets not controlled by her guileless nature, he arrogantly believed were directed only by her faith and Adam himself.

"I know you've filled her head with all these dreams, changed the plans she's had for years. She's realized her mistakes. We both have." Standing, he pulled a rolled piece of paper from his back pocket and slammed it onto his desk. "Here is my resignation. Ana and I are moving home." He felt this intense urge to growl, challenge Adam's authority and fight for Ana, but she obviously made her choice. The embarrassing display of baring his soul to her filled his vision and that rejection paired with another blatant refusal from Ana had his head swimming in red.

"Are you just going to glue an apron on her and suffocate her forever? Mold her back into that pretty little wife who catered only to you?" He gritted out, his restraint waning. Fingers curled so tightly under the lip of his desk that his fingernails almost curled back into his skin.

"What I do with my wife is no longer your business." And with that, Adam turned sharply and stormed out slamming the door as he left. Through the pounding headache of rage, he vaguely heard Andrea's voice through the intercom sounding like garbled concern. The realization of Ana leaving drowned him in a suffocating ache before the fury emerged again in full force. Rage was an easier emotion for him to handle…at least more bearable. Being berated by an insufficient example of a man was enough for him to fire forty people, hundreds if he closed down a factory.

"Is everything okay?" He heard Andrea's voice and looked up to see her peeking around the door. He wanted to fire her, but thank god she had blonde hair. It was her saving grace in that moment. Anything reminiscent of Ana made every bone in his body snap.

"Everything is fine. Cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day. I'm leaving and will be unreachable. Please delegate appointments and concerns to the necessary people." He didn't wait for an answer, nor could he hear one. He just needed to escape the confines of responsibility for a while and as soon as god damn possible.

Taylor refrained from asking questions as he approached his waiting vehicle. He slid in and poured a glass of scotch before downing it and serving himself another shot. In fact, he echoed the process until they pulled up to Escala. He jumped out before Taylor could stop him. Fuck pulling into the garage. He didn't need the opportunity to see her. Stopping in the lobby, he debated heading upstairs but he hungered for the chaos of noise, the sound of people and not the deadly silence. In the stillness of his apartment, he had sovereign authority and too many resources at his disposal to behave irrationally. In that moment, he desired a bloodbath…to hurt as many people as possible. Closing down a factory and increasing the unemployment rate in a county seemed seriously tempting.

He approached the bar with the staff in immediate service. Ordering a drink, he perched himself on the bar stool. Feeling Taylor alone without needing physical evidence calmed him. If anything at least Taylor was loyal to him. The fifty-year old aged scotch began its descent into the pit of his stomach first with a burn until turning into a tasteless necessity. The number of glasses it took to water down the scotch went uncounted but fortunate for him he had enough capital to drown himself in liquor without worrying about depleting his fortune. If he died from alcohol poisoning, at least his choice in spirits indicated his demise would be with good taste.

White noise engulfed him emanating from the cacophony of the bar and restaurant. He scanned the crowd out of boredom. Through the blur of these insignificant people came the gaze of a fairly attractive woman. Strawberry blonde hair cut into a bob framed her pale face and her large brown eyes which shifted once he met them. They careened back to the man sitting across from her. In that instant, Christian moved his eyes to her left hand. He smirked at the wedding ring gracing her finger. Married women were a forgotten conquest. Honestly, the drama of fucking spouses was too chaotic and unnecessary for someone like him. Chelsea drops everything in a second to cater to him, and he also had a handful of women he could call upon to satiate his sexual appetite. Chelsea's name brought forth the scene in his office, the one he devised to force Ana to view him differently. Although this may have been a grave miscalculation, the moment when she began to pull away from him as he embraced her tightly against his chest was pivotal, a turn of the tide. He could finally now see it for what it was. He forced her outside of her comfort zone and continued to push her into troublesome terrain. He manipulated circumstances to suit his needs and desires. For the longest time, those were all that mattered. His father projected this ideal. Love, he learned, was a façade, a marketing ploy, and an asset if played well. Love also brought many people to their knees. Ana had him on his proverbial knees as he vomited words he had yet to realize himself. Three shots later and a tumbler in hand, he could feel the effects already. The last time he drank this much was well…never. Avid control made him fear overwhelming amounts of alcohol. Who knew all it took was a brown haired Christian woman to strip him of it? The blonde caught his attention again as she swiveled her head to focus on her husband when he caught her staring.

She worked hard to keep her attention from Christian, but as soon as her husband left the table she offered him a smile and fumbled with her phone. With another large sip of scotch, he climbed off his stool rather gracefully with as much as he had to drink and walked over to her. Sitting down across from her, a look of fear and tension appeared on her face.

"May I help you?" She asked as she scanned the bar undoubtedly searching for her husband.

"I can help you." He spoke with a deep voice he reserved for occasions like these although seduction was rarely needed. She blushed and shifted uncomfortably.

"My husband will be back soon."

"Meet me upstairs."

"Why?" She first asked before shaking her head no. "No, of course not." She added with not much ease at convincing him she meant it. The way she moved her hair from her shoulders to expose more of her chest told him so.

"I didn't even tell you what we would do yet." She didn't answer but just bit at the inside of her lip nervously. It reminded him of Ana, and now he needed this woman even more to replace her. It wasn't that he even wanted to fuck her. He just needed her to say yes…to desperately reclaim his dominance.

"That strawberry blonde hair would look wonderful in the grips of my hands as I fucked you from behind." His voice grew deceitfully husky, a talent he has mastered quite well, and he lightly ran a finger through her hair. Her chest skipped a couple deep breaths as the movements grew shallow and heavy. Leaning in close, he whispered harshly.

"I'd make you fantasize about me every time your husband fucked you missionary. I'd make it so the only way you could ever come again is on your fingers as you thought about me." An audible hot gasp touched his skin before he felt a hand snake over his shoulder.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The movement with which he spun blurred his vision. The effects of too much alcohol finally seized his control. Her husband stood angrily ready to throw a fist which would be great sport right about now. He could use some male aggression and release. As he stood in anticipation of the painful impact to spur his rage again, Taylor intervened.

"Sir, we should go upstairs." Christian narrowed his eyes at Taylor's interruption and then shifted his focus to the husband behind him. He was calming down, his fist unclenching to loose fingers.

"That's fine. I was just telling this beautiful woman here how I'd love to take her upstairs and fuck her until she forgets her husband's name." The man's face contorted in rage.

"Christian Grey!" His heart fell as he heard Ana's voice behind him, and everyone quickly moved their attention to her. He hated himself in that moment that she had to witness him like that. But as soon as the thought entered, it dissipated with the influx of anger. Finally turning around, she stood with her arms crossed, and her face wore a severe look of disappointment.

"What?" He snapped, and she gazed at the others.

"Is this your wife?" The husband asked from behind him as if he were ready to confess some marital sin of his. Ana cringed before answering, and he started to walk away… stumble really, but he couldn't be near her.

"No. I'm a friend. I'm so sorry." She told them in her warm, calming voice. If anyone could remedy a situation with just tone and words, it was definitely Ana. He met the bar again in his clumsy attempt at mounting the stool.

"Definitely not." He heard her speak sternly, and the scathing tone eviscerated him. Ana then reached for his forearm. As her fingers coiled around him, he growled, quickly tearing away. He couldn't bear to feel her touch…the heat felt as if it seared the hairs climbing up his arm.

"Would you like me to leave you down here to make a fool of yourself?"

"Unless you're coming upstairs to fuck me then I suppose I will stay. You ruined my last attempt."

"Christian." She uttered in frustration and grabbed him again. His head grew heavy, and he knew he'd need to lie down soon. Jerking his arm from her grip, he moved alone seemingly uncaring if she followed. He cared… he fucking cared terrifyingly too much, but he didn't portray it as such. As they rounded the corner from the lobby to the empty hall of elevators, he leaned against the wall as nausea surged through him.

"Okay." He heard her whisper as she laced the inside of his elbow around her neck and snaked her arm around his waist. "Let's just get you upstairs."

"Does Adam know you're here? Better yet, does God know you're here?" He asked belligerently, as he watched her cringe. Pulling away from him, she turned around abruptly, and he had to steady himself against the wall; his depth perception was royally fucked as he stumbled a bit.

"Don't talk to me that way. I know your upset but just don't." He narrowed his eyes and studied her. Being offensive gave him a vision of her he'd never seen before. Her strength was generally quiet, but he finally noted the loud understated don't-fuck-with-me persona she could pull out if the situation warranted it. He hung his head as the thought infuriated him; it made him desire her more if that was even fucking possible. She sighed in defeat and folded her arm around his hip again.

"I'll take that as the beginning of an apology." She softly murmured in his ear.

"I can walk by myself." He hissed as he followed her into the elevator. It took him a couple of tries to put his key into his floor number, but she didn't help. She stood across the metal space and patiently watched when he finally succeeded. He then slowly ran his hooded eyes down her body triggering Ana to swiftly look away. It was so fucking odd how both anger and the overpowering desire to fuck her against the wall ravaged him all at once. Well, that and now vertigo was set in motion in this cramped space. He dropped his head back against the cold pane and closed his eyes for a minute hoping to keep the spinning at bay.

"Christian." Ana's voice danced like pink elephants in his ears. He opened his eyes slowly, and she stood in front of him smiling weakly. God, she is beautiful….fucking breathtaking. The thought immediately made his chest constrict hard, and he winced in pain.

"We're here." She stepped out of his way, and he pushed himself off against the wall almost knocking down his foyer table as he stepped out. When he didn't feel her behind him, he turned around to see that she was still standing in the elevator.

"Well now I need help." She tried not to smile as she shook her head.

"Just go sleep it off." She softly replied as her eyes beamed with affection yet concern.

"I'll go back down there if you leave." She stared at the number panel on the wall. Meeting his eyes again, she stepped out, and he smirked victoriously.

"Don't look so proud of yourself." She spoke frustratingly as her hand slithered around his waist. He melded into her warmth. God damn it, she smelled good, amber and vanilla. That feeling emerged again, the one that now just pissed him off every time he thought about it. It only reminded him of being rejected, and he pulled away from her.

"Where is your room?" She asked quietly as if she understood why he tore away from her embrace. Couldn't he just fucking shake her? Wake her up from that small town overbearing hell she's been smothered in.

"Why?"

"Because you smell like alcohol and you need to shower." He moved his chin towards the hallway, and she moved in that direction. In an instant as he followed her, he felt a violent punch to his chest seeing her walk into his bedroom. They could have this. This could be the end of the day where they would meet in their room like what normal couples do to go fuck missionary style and sleep. When he envisioned it, it didn't seem so monotonous and depressing with her. In fact, it ignited an acute longing in him that only fueled his fury.

_She's leaving. _

After she turned the shower on, he cornered her against the wall. She watched him, unafraid, keeping her gaze fixed on his. He wanted to tempt her. He wanted to push her past her limits, her stupid fucking boundaries. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned them above her head, his eyes shifting to his thumb pressing hard against her wedding ring.

"You made a mistake coming up here." He whispered harshly into her ear, but she kept her breathing steady, unaffected. He released one of his hands and brought it the curve of her hips. She shifted uncomfortably, and he pulled back to scrutinize her face. He wanted to see her uncomfortable, tempt her, but in all reality he ached for her to feel his pain. Running a finger across her jaw, he brought his thumb over her bottom lip which she quickly pulled back.

"I could do so many things to you right now and you'd love every second of it."

"You're punishing me." The ends of his lips curled as he raked his eyes over her tits and drug his fingers hard against her thighs.

"Does that answer your question?"

"I'm sorry." She spoke genuinely as her eyes began to glisten. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Hurt? Maybe this is who I really am when I'm _not_ trying to impress you. The truth is…if you want to play the victim and the innocent one, that's fine. I'll be the villain of this story but don't offend me now pretending that you care because when you go to bed with Adam tonight, I'm going to bed alone. Who really is the cruel one in this situation?" This time she winced visibly like he physically slapped her. The reaction he sought for didn't offer him any of the comfort he hoped it would.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"And why is that?" He asked taking his fingers and running them along the waist of her shorts.

"Because I noticed you more when you weren't trying to impress me." He stared at her, waves of pain flooding streets of anger and the side streets of revenge. Dropping his hands she grabbed his wrists, and he met her eyes.

"You are not this person."

"You don't know me Ana."

"I can read you better than anyone else and downstairs…" She cupped his cheek to bring his attention back to her. "Downstairs, you were hurt, and people do horrible things when they're hurt, but that isn't you."

How does she do it? How does she keep giving? Her blues welled with tears, and he had never before seen such despair.

"I'm so sorry." She whimpered.

"For what?" She really started to sob and each time she tried to speak, her words emerged as harsh breaths.

"I have a feeling love has always been painful for you." Wiping the tears with the back of her hands, she struggled to keep herself composed.

"I hate it." She gritted out and then shook her head as if she said the wrong thing. "Love is supposed to be beautiful and it's supposed to make your heart physically swell in your chest because you're so overwhelmed with happiness. And when it does hurt, it only hurts for a small while because you know you'll get through anything. I hate that I hurt you and proved otherwise. It kills me!"

"I'm so so sorry." He dropped to his knees, the cold tile a shock to his skin, and he twisted his arms hard around her waist burying his head against her stomach. Apologies were hard for him, he had no reference for them. His father never apologized unless for show. And watching Ana feel guilt for something he initiated and to see the light stripped from her that he attached himself to from the rose garden, it literally brought him to his knees. In all reality if he remained rational and acted with logic, he would have never pursued a married woman, not one like Ana, but logic escaped him around her. He only felt.

He inhaled her familiar scent and burrowed his head into her. She stood frozen in his embrace, her stomach contracting under his forehead. After the longest seconds of his life, he felt her gently place her hands on his head before she hesitantly removed them again. He squeezed tighter, and he heard the slight sob escape before she then ran her fingers through his hair pulling him closer. He hungered more for those soft tugs followed by the slow gentle strokes of her palm against his scalp. She was comforting him through her touch and the warmth of her stomach pressed against his cheek.

"Oh Christian…" She exhaled and her breath caught on the last syllable of his name.

"You are going to make someone so happy. I can feel it. I know God has a plan for you, you just have to trust your faith." She caught his chin between her fingers when he looked away.

"Do you trust me?" Through the surge of exhaustion now overwhelming him, he met her gaze with a nod, and she smiled accompanied by a chuckle. Her finger grazed his cheek in appreciation.

"You're lucky I read your body language more than I wait for your words." Resigning a sigh at his lack of words or response, she pulled her hand away. "Trust in _my_ faith then. I'll pray for us both."

"Such the nightingale." He commented as he stared at her in admiration even knowing that doing so, it allowed the pain complete access to him…to the receptors that disguised the feeling as anger. He'd feel her loss in every way possible once she'd left, but he'd do it because he knew that she would never survive the guilt otherwise. Leaving him was much easier to deal with than breaking away from the only life she has ever known. Her fear decided for her. More tears trailed her cheeks before meeting the floor as she started the nervous wringing of her hands.

"What?"

"Nothing." She shook her head without meeting his eyes.

"Ana." He pressed, grateful he read her just as well as she did him. Finally looking up with the same admiration he had worn just moments ago, she spoke.

"You are the man who pierced his hand on a tree while proclaiming his love. You are more the nightingale than I Christian. You were fearless."

Fearless? He felt so weak, completely depleted. He thought the nausea might kill him as he confessed his feelings under the tree, but she wouldn't know that. Everyone she has loved has returned the affection back. She wouldn't know the pain of rejection. But she has experienced more loss than he ever has and survived better than most. She rose from her knees, cupped his cheek, and gazed into his soul as she continued to soothe him.

"You've spread your wings once, you can do it again. You deserve someone that can love you freely and without restraint. And it will be beautiful and change everything you've ever known about love. I promise. In a different time and place, I could've been this for you but maybe this was my purpose, God's plan...to show you it's possible to love." She spoke gently as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead. They were as soft as he remembered and with more warmth than he could imagine. But as soon as the warmth pierced him, it then escaped with every step she took walking out of the door solidifying their final moment.

Two hours later, heavy footsteps followed by hushed whispers lurked ominously in the hallway between Taylor's office and the security detail. Seeping though his door, the distorted voices echoed...

"It's Ms. Steele... She is in trouble"


End file.
